Letters
by Fanfictionally
Summary: Dramione; Even though Hermione and Ron are more than friends, being Head with Draco Malfoy and having to live together brings temptations, jealousy, and drama. Not only that, but it gives someone a perfect chance to confess their true feelings in a perfectly anonymous way. Rated M for language, adult themes (including trigger warnings), and future chapters.
1. 1- Sexy, Intolerable Ferret

**(A/N): As much as I want to make this fic as factual as possible, for the storyline, I can't do exactly that. This takes place after the war, where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco are all back at Hogwarts for their seventh year. Sadly, I don't know too many of the people in the year below them, so their peers will all be the same as well, but Ginny is in their year. Sorry if that's a bit confusing, but for the plot's sake, the war has to have already happened. I am changing the fact that Fred died, because Fred and George are honestly two of the best characters and I love them both together. I hope you enjoy!**

_Chapter One : Sexy, Intolerable Ferret_

Intolerable. Ferret. Prick.

Those were three of the words that came to mind when someone said "Draco Malfoy." There were others, too; worse ones, but those three words were the ones she would most often say to him. If anything. Normally, she chose the route of ignoring the git, until he called her a mudblood. Then, she would spit out some witty comeback, _including_ the fact that he was an evil little ferret that had no real friends and was destined to live in the shadow of a greater man his whole life. Maybe that man was more of a snake, really, but he got her point. But now that Voldemort was dead, and his father was locked away with the other death eaters, he acted visibly different already.

Two weeks before Hogwarts was due to begin again, the empty house a few blocks away had a moving truck in front of it. Ron was visiting for a week before they went to the Burrow, so that they could have some alone time. He had agreed to wait until they were done with school, or nearly done, so that it wouldn't affect her studies. But they could do whatever they wanted in the summer, and at this point in time, they were taking a walk. Malfoy had been in the driveway with his mother, helping her carry in boxes. He'd seen the couple first; holding hands, Ron kissing her on the cheek, her giggling at absolutely nothing. As soon as she looked in his direction, his back turned, practically running inside. Hermione elbowed Ron, motioning over. "What's that git doing here?" he'd muttered, tightening his arm around her waist. She had shrugged, leaning into him.

And so she started going on more walks down that street. Ron had slept till noon one day, so she went early in the morning before the sun had even risen. That time, Malfoy was sitting outside with his hand, both hands making a fist on each end, like he was about to break it. As soon as he saw her, he threw it behind him, nodding, like he was greeting her. Hermione nodded back, eyes flicking between him and the road in front of her.

Now she had no idea what three words to use when talking about him. Confusing could be one of them. Possibly a suck up? And a bit of a player, if that part of his life hadn't changed too much.

She was about to add Head Boy to the list too, apparently.

She was waiting in the cabin where the prefects were due to meet later, waiting for the Head Boy. Malfoy knocked on the glass door, sliding it open and stepping inside. "I'm not surprised, Granger."

He sits himself down lazily in the seat next to her. She skip a beat, shocked that he wouldn't sit as far away from her as possible. Instead, he drapes his arm around the back of her seat, not touching her but still making even closer contact. "You're Head Boy?"

"Why so shocked?" he grins, running his other hand through his hair. It's not slicked over, like it had been before. It's more fluffy and messy, in a rugged and sexy kind of way. And as disgusted as she was with herself for thinking of him as anything but horrible, let alone sexy, she was too distracted to think of anything else.

"Only because we've both ditched the last year," she shrugs, finally answering his question.

"Yeah, but you've been off doing good things. I, on the other hand . . . not so much."

"Right, well… we need to go over schedules." He nods, looking at the papers in front of her. "So maybe we should just do it randomly, and once we get everyone's schedules for quidditch and other extracurricular activities, we can create a schedule beyond that."

"Sounds good to me," Malfoy says. They take the time slots they want for themselves first, then fill in the spots for others. She schedules Ron for all the same times, not really caring about the others and letting Malfoy have most of the say.

"We still have ten more minutes till the meeting starts," she says, looking up at the clock hung from the wall.

"I can read clocks, Granger," he reminds her. His knees are spread, long legs straightening out under the round table.

"So you moved," she comments. He nods. "Why?"

He looks over at her, taking his arm away. "That's a bit of a personal question."

"I'm sorry, I was just wondering. It's a muggle neighborhood. I should know."

"I wanted to be away from my father," he says. There's obviously more to it, but I have no right to make him tell me.

"You're not like him, you know. I can tell you aren't."

"How could you tell that?"

Hermione clasps her hands together. "You aren't evil. I can just tell."

Before he can say anything more, Ron arrives. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?" he spits.

"Don't get so fresh with me, Weasel, unless you want points deducted so soon. I'm Head Boy."

Ron looks at her for confirmation, and she nods. "Right, well, I'm here early for the meeting. What's my schedule like?" He sits on the other side of her, pulling her closer and putting his arm around her waist, glaring at Malfoy when he thinks she's not looking.

"I scheduled us for all the same times, I hope you don't mind spending more time with me," Hermione teases.

"'Course not," he laughs, kissing her cheek.

"Get a room, you two," Malfoy groans, crossing his arms.

"We did, you're just in it," Ron snaps, not even looking into him. He starts leaving kisses down her neck, and Hermione moves away from him.

"Knock it off, children. Just act like you don't hate each other for a few more minutes."

"That's impossible," they say in unison, looking away from each other. She groans, putting her head down on the table, muttering something about their immaturity and how fun of a year this will be.


	2. 2- Unsettling Color Schemes

"Are you alright, Malfoy?" Blaise asks as Draco sits back down in their compartment.

"Fine," he snaps, crossing his arms.

He wasn't fine at all; not with these thoughts about Hermione constantly in the back of his head. The worst thought should have been the one where she was pressed between him and the stone wall, but if he was honest with himself, those were his favourite. The worst image burned into his brain was real; it was her kissing the red-headed Weasel outside his house. He couldn't look at it for a second longer, and had to rush inside.

So he blocked that one off with sexual fantasies that he kept locked up in his brain.

"You seem fine," Pansy says sarcastically, flipping her hair.

"Keep your mouth shut," he snarls. "I know that's hard for you, but try."

"I thought you liked it, Draco." He rolls his eyes, mentally telling her that he'd started imagining another girl, one with brains and beauty who wasn't a slut. Sure, Pansy had her moments, but she was nowhere near as intriguing as Hermione was while doing something as simple as her assignments.

Pansy turned to Blaise. "You know, Malfoy was sitting right by the mudblood at the meeting a few minutes ago. Glaring _AK_s at Weasley and Granger."

Goyle appeared out of nowhere. " '_AK's_?"

"Avada Kedavra, obviously. What are you, a muggle?" she snorts.

Blaise and Draco both glared at her. Everyone felt bad for Goyle, since Crabbe had died during the war. It really was sad. The two of them were never apart and now Goyle seemed a little lost.

He shrugged, continuing down the hall.

"So, Malfoy's into mudbloods now, huh? The dark lord may be gone, but it doesn't mean we have to abandon our morals. Unless you like Weasley, of course. He may be a blood traitor but he's pure."

Draco cringes. "Disgusting. I'm not gay, and I'm not into mudbloods. I was just glaring at them because I hate them, obviously."

"So, who's Head Girl?" Blaise asks. Draco mentally groans, already knowing the reaction he was going to get.

"It's Granger."

Pansy shares a look with Blaise, as if to say _"See?"_

"So you'll be living with her?" Blaise asks.

"I think so," Draco shrugs. The two Slytherins raise their eyebrows at him, so he adds in a snarl. "It's going to be hell."

He secretly hoped they would be forced to share a bedroom. Of course they wouldn't, but a man could dream. In the short time he had known for sure that she would be Head Girl – he had his suspicions but he willed himself not to come up with fantasies until he knew he would be Head Boy, himself - he'd thought of a few hot scenarios. Most of them involved him seducing her until she couldn't handle it anymore, and either jumped on him or tried to relieve the pain herself. And he really needed to stop thinking about this before he got too out of hand.

Clearing his throat and shifting in his chair, Draco stared out the window at the open fields flying by. Pansy and Blaise continue to bicker about nothing important in the background, and finally, they arrive at the station.

As they file out of the train, a hand grabs his arm and pulls him from the sea of people. He turns to swear at the owner of the soft hand, but he realizes it's Hermione the moment he opens his mouth. Immediately closing it, she begins speaking. "We're supposed to sit at a 'prefect table' for the first week, and then we can sit with our friends." She notices his stare, not meeting her eyes, but on her lips. She snaps two fingers in front of his face and his eyes widen, looking up at her eyes with a small tint of pink coloring his cheeks.

"Right, okay. See you there."

He takes off, leaving her confused and alone. "This will be a great year," she sighs to herself, trudging after him.

When the first years are sorted and the food finally comes out, Ron forgets about her and focuses on his meal. Hermione rolls her eyes, shifting in her seat so that she isn't still leaning on Ron. Malfoy, who sits on the other side of her, raises an eyebrow at Ron, who's too preoccupied to see it. Malfoy looks at Hermione next, shaking his head. She wants to ask him what he meant by that, but she figures it'd be too weird.

She pushes her food around the plate, hungry, but not that hungry. Lately, she'd been losing her appetite but no one had noticed… her parents were busy with work and they never had meals together anymore. Harry and Ginny were too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other. Fred and George were running the store –she wouldn't expect them to notice or care, anyways– and Mr and Mrs Weasley had their own problems. At least for them, she had to make up a few lies. It didn't feel good, but at least someone seemed to be a little concerned about her.

"Are you going to eat that?" Ron asks after a few minutes, mouth full of food still. She groans, shaking her head and pushing her plate over to him. She crosses her arms, leaning against the back of the chair. Malfoy stares at her until she looks back at him.

"What?" she asks.

He lowers his voice, leaning towards her. It takes everything she has to not lean in, too. _Bloody hell, Hermione. Get your hormones together, you're sitting by your future boyfriend! Ron, not Malfoy. Of course it's not Malfoy- why would it be Malfoy?_

"You didn't eat anything, and you choose to give it to the Weasel?"

"Did you want it or something?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but you- never mind." Draco cuts himself off. He shakes his head, turning back to his nearly empty plate. He wasn't sure if he should say it. It might seem as if he cared, or even liked her. He wasn't sure if he wanted her for no-strings-attached sex, or for something more. He rather hoped it was the former of the two, because that could be justified by hormones. But the latter of the options would be his _heart_, which, since his father was away in Azkaban, his mother had told him to use now. It wasn't his brain leading now, it was his heart, and it seemed to be pointing straight at the girl sitting next to him.

She was so damn beautiful. Was she always that pretty? He wasn't really sure, trying to remember back to the curly haired little Hermione. Compared to every other girl in Hogwarts, she was cute. She had a big mouth and she still did, but now she was charming and they were old enough to fuck. That idea, he liked.

"Now, for a few announcements," McGonagall says, rising from her chair. "As your new headmistress, I'd like to formally welcome you to Hogwarts. I'd like to introduce you to the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin, and the Head Girl, Hermione Granger of Gryffindor." Draco and Hermione stand up, smiling at the students. "It'll be smart to keep on their good side, as they can give you detentions and take house points from any student who disobeys the rules."

Hermione laughs and Draco smirks, nodding in agreement. They sit back down, and McGonagall continues her speech. "As always, the forest is off limits. Your house prefects are the best people to ask questions to, first years, but my office is always open. Now!" she claps her hands together. "I wish you all a great year at Hogwarts! Follow your prefects to the dorm rooms."

She steps down from the staff table, walking over to where Hermione, Malfoy, and the Prefects sit. She instructs the Prefects to help their houses, and leads Hermione and Malfoy into the corridors. She leads them up two staircases, to the hall near the room of requirements. Down another two hallways to a painting of an old-looking wizard. "Felix Felicis," McGonagall says to the picture, which swings open in front of the trio. They step through, looking around the room. The walls are maroon, and the floors have silver tiles with green carpet by the fireplace and a golden couch. While it doesn't exactly match, the combination of Slytherin and Gryffindor colors is almost amusing.

"I'll leave you two to get settled. I expect you two to be civil, is that clear?" Draco and Hermione nod. "Good. I'll see you next week for our meeting. Goodnight," she steps through the hole in the wall, portrait swinging closed behind her.

Hermione looks over at Malfoy. "Right, so… I should get to sleep," she hesitates, looking around for a second.

"Me too," he nods. Malfoy walks to the two doorways, looking inside. "This one has Slytherin colors; it's probably mine."

Hermione nods. She didn't know what to do; going to her room seemed rude, but saying goodnight seemed weird for two people who were previously enemies. She had no ideas of where she stood with Malfoy, and she found out that she didn't like not knowing things.

"See you tomorrow, Granger," Malfoy calls with a small smirk on his face, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

"Bright and early," she says back just loud enough for him to hear, trudging off into her maroon and gold colored room.


	3. 3- Trust Me

The sun burns through the window, dark maroon curtains moved away. It wakes up Hermione, and she groans, seeing that it's only 5:30. Why does the sun insist on rising so early? She needed to be awake for her first day back at Hogwarts, and right now, she felt as if she were about to die.

Maybe she could get some black coffee. That wouldn't be too bad, would it? No, it would be fine.

She put on her school robe, straightened her hair to the best of her abilities, and put on makeup to cover the darkness under her eyes. She made sure she had everything she would need, and was about to leave as Malfoy walked out of his room in his boxers. "_Oi_," she breathed -no, moaned- under her breath when she saw him. She quickly looked at the floor, red coloring her cheeks.

"Morning," he yawned, hardly looking at her. He went into the bathroom they shared, turning on the shower as she left. Hermione walked down the corridors, remembering where their dorm was so she wouldn't have to ask Malfoy or McGonagall. After nearly toppling over when a staircase moved while she was walking down it, she reached the Great Hall. Hardly anyone was there, considering it was just 6 am now, and most classes didn't start until 7:30 or 8 am. She sat alone at the table near the front, the girl prefect from Ravenclaw being the only one there. She was reading a rather large book, glasses high on her nose.

Hermione decided that this was a good idea. A house elf came up and asked her what she wanted, and she kindly asked for black coffee, refusing sugar even though the elf asked multiple times. It was ready in mere seconds, and she took the large cup, sipping on it until it burnt her tongue and she couldn't taste it anymore. Taking out a book and flipping to her page, she continued reading about negative effects potions could have. After an hour filled with peace, she looked up to see the red-haired boy running towards her with a tie wrapped around his neck, not tied. His shirt was ruffled and his hair was sticking up in different directions. He grabbed for the food sitting on his plate, stuffing the mini dry cereal box into his bag and gulping down all of his pumpkin juice without breathing. While he was leaning over to grab a donut, he gave Hermione a quick kiss.

"I on'y gut a foo minoots to gut to d'v'nation!" Ron says between bites of the donut. "I luff you," he smiles, running off again.

"Charming, isn't he," Malfoy teases from the other side of her. She hadn't even noticed he was there.

"He's just unorganized. He always has been."

Malfoy shakes his head. "If that bloke can get a girlfriend, he's got to learn how to treat 'em right." Hermione shrugs, finishing off her now cold coffee. "What did you eat?" Malfoy asks.

"Um, toast," she lies. He raises an eyebrow.

"Filling."

"Very." She goes back to her book and Malfoy starts eating. She could tell Malfoy didn't quite believe her, but she wasn't sure why he wanted to know. He didn't care about her….

Her first class didn't start until 8, a pleasant surprise this year. That class was also with the Slytherins; Potions. Malfoy sat with her the whole time, silent. He took out his own book after he'd eaten a huge breakfast, and read _The Flying Squad_, a fictional book he'd gotten for his birthday a while ago and had come to enjoy. He finished the book for the seventh time in his life, waiting for 7:50 to come around. Why did he have to wake up so early? Granger was up before he was, though. Maybe she had been hoping to talk to Ron. Maybe she was going to finally break up with him! Of course he didn't know how long they'd dated before this year. Maybe they'd been together for years. No one really knew how to tell if they were dating or not, unless they were having a make out session for all to see. That didn't sound like Hermione, though.

Around 7:30, while Hermione was reading about the horrendous side effects of various love potions, Ginny came over to her table. "How long have you been reading?" she asks.

"Since 6," Hermione shrugs, marking her page and closing the book.

Ginny's eyes widen. "Hell, you could be doing better things! Like be off snogging my brother for instance."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right. He has class."

"So? He was awake before."

"No he wasn't. He ran in here half dressed and grabbed some food and kissed me, mumbling something about divination."

"Wake him up!" she yells, like it's obvious.

"He'd kill me, Gin."

"Not if you gave him a little something," she giggles, nudging me suggestively.

"Right, our first time is going to be when he's too tired to do anything."

"First time?! You've never shagged him?!"

Hermione groans. "You had to say that so loud?"

All of a sudden she hears none other than Malfoy, speaking from his spot. "What a surprise, Weasel and Granger haven't fucked."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione groans.

"You, baby," he smirks, putting his hand on her waist. Hermione flips around, glaring at him until he stops touching her.

"Never going to happen, _baby_," she mocks, crossing her arms.

"But honestly, you've known Ron for 8 years. Almost half your life! What more do you need?"

Hermione blushes. "Honestly, it's not the same… I don't know if I love him like that anymore."

"Really?" Ginny asks. "Who's on your mind now?"

Hermione laughs. "No one! I'm not interested in anybody."

"You know, McCormick made another stupid bet last year, and now he has to redo his seventh year because he missed so much class when he was in the hospital. He's still got eyes for you. Maybe you should accept his offers?"

"He's so sexual!" Hermione reminds her.

"So is Malfoy," Ginny points out.

"So? I don't like Malfoy. I don't like any guy for that matter."

Malfoy butts in again. "You don't like me? Oh, you _must_ be a lesbian. Who do you want to get finger fucked by?"

"That's disgusting! Shut up!"

"Is it Weaslet? I'd pay to see that." Hermione practically gags, but Ginny laughs.

"I think it'd be a Ravenclaw, so they could discuss transfiguration during," Ginny adds.

"Stop! I am not a lesbian!" Hermione insists. When they continue to team up against her, tormenting her, she stands up and grabs her book, stuffing it inside her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Fuck you both, arseholes," she huffs, walking away.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever heard her swear," Ginny laughs as she walks away.

"I think she swore when she punched me in year 3," Draco tells her.

She shrugs. "I'm most likely going to have to sit by her in potions," Ginny says. "See you there." She gets up, running after Hermione. Draco stuffs everything into his own bag, slowly walking through the castle to potions.

Hermione hadn't gone there, however. She went to the abandoned bathroom where moaning Myrtle was hiding, as always. Hermione was surprised she wasn't off finding guys who were changing. A door opened after Hermione, revealing Ginny. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling the sobs trying to come out. "Hermione! I know you're in here. I am _not_ leaving you alone! We have class soon and you will _not_ miss the first day!"

Ginny swings open the door Hermione was hiding behind. Ginny immediately pulls her from the stall, rushing her to the sinks.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione sniffles. "Does he honestly think I'm a lesbian?" she asks.

"No! I don't think so, at least. He seemed like he was joking to me." Ginny pauses. "Why do you care? He's called you worse."

"Someone has a crush, doesn't she?" Myrtle teases, flying around the corner to where they stand.

"I do not like Malfoy," Hermione announces, matter-of-factly.

"I'd say she _loves_ him," Myrtle says to Ginny. "Don't worry. I won't tell everyone. It's not as if you're the first girl to come in here crying over him. Not even the first this year."

Hermione lets out another sob, crying into Ginny's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you fixed up and we can talk about it after classes, sound good?" Hermione nods, letting Ginny brush away her tears and put some makeup on her face. "There. All better." Ginny takes Hermione's hand in hers, leading her to potions with both of their book bags hanging off her shoulder. With ten minutes left until class begins, about half the seats are filled. They sit by the right wall in the second row. Malfoy is in the far back, feet propped up on the desk, leaning against the back wall. Just as it had been in sixth year, Slughorn taught in a warm room with one window near the front, instead of a cold, wet, dark dungeon.

"How are you feeling today?" Ginny asks her in a serious tone.

"Good, how about you?"

Ginny sighs. "Hermione."

"Ginny."

"Anxiety?"

"High," Hermione shrugs.

"Appetite?"

"Non-existent."

"Medicine?"

"I don't need it."

"Yes you do. You'd be hungry if you took some."

"I'll run out. That was hard to sneak past my parents."

"Then tell them!" Ginny yells, turning all heads in the classroom. "Sorry," she mutters quietly. "But they should know."

"I can't tell them over a letter. I'll deal with it myself."

"What if it gets worse?"

"Then I'll die." Ginny opens her mouth to argue more, but Hermione cuts her off. "I will be okay. I have you, and being back in school and being Head Girl will keep me busy. It'll be okay," Hermione promises, knowing that it's more than likely to be broken.

"I'm going to trust you to let me in, okay?" Ginny asks. Hermione nods, not saying anything. If she told anyone the complete truth, they would surely send her off to the mental ward in St Mungos.

Professor Slughorn walks into the classroom behind some out-of-breath girls in thick makeup and short skirts. Draco licks his lips, half hoping one of them would sit by him. None did, though, because Blaise threw his bag on the table, sitting himself in the stool next to Draco. Surely, though, since those girls were wearing a uniform, Granger would have one of those in her closet somewhere. She should wear it someday. After class he would find her in a dark corridor and push her against the wall, telling her she'd been a bad girl. Maybe she didn't wear those, though, because she didn't have the body for it. Who knew with all those bloody robes she wore.


	4. 4- Hardly Petty

The first class was a bit of a bore to everyone, except Hermione. She was able to earn over twenty points for Gryffindor by knowing every answer to his questions. Malfoy had made a comment under his breath, still loud enough for the class to hear, every time she answered a question.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so bitter if you knew the answers," Ginny snaps after the fourth time.

"Maybe _you_ wouldn't be so bitter if your best friend didn't have a stick permanently shoved up her-"

"Belt up, Malfoy!" Hermione shouts suddenly. Everyone's heads turn to the two, and it's quiet except for her raging breaths.

"You've grown a pair, huh, Granger?" he scoffs.

"Right, children, that's enough!" Slughorn says, walking halfway down the rows. "Head Girl and Boy, for Merlin's sake! McGonagall has got a close eye on you as it is; we wouldn't want to go back to regular students, now would we?"

"No, Professor Slughorn," they say in unison, sounding like scolded children.

"Of course not. I'd advise you to overcome your petty differences and work together like Heads."

_Hardly petty,_ Hermione thought to herself. _He called me a mudblood for 7 years and constantly bullied me. And to top it all off, his family tried to kill my best friend and his aunt tortured me._ Recalling it all, she actually scoffed. Professor Slughorn turned back to glare at her, and she tried to cover it with a cough. She didn't feel like explaining the ugly truth to anyone; ever.

That night, she had even more anxiety than she had started with. Ever since the incident in her first class, her scars had been on her mind. Throwing her bag on her bed, she locked the door and stripped down to her tank top and underwear, sliding down the edge of her bed to sit on the floor, hands clinging to each other.

Hermione stared at her arms, almost in horror. The scar Bellarix had made was pink, instead of becoming white like all her other old ones. She knew it would eventually turn white as well, and fade into the paleness of her skin, but it was taking too long. That was a constant reminder of why no one would ever fully accept her. When she'd gotten her letter, she figured she was more of a miracle than a disgrace. But, as many other things did, her views were changed when others tarnished them.

Maybe it didn't really help the recovery when she most often traced those lines with her own blade, not quite as deep. It didn't have to be, though. It hurt enough on a healing scar as far down as that was. Each time she did it, she would get horrible flashes of the memory. She remembered her teary vision set on Malfoy, who stood in the corner of his house biting his lip roughly, one hand squeezing his wand tightly as he avoided looking at her. She needed him to look at her; he would save her. He wasn't like his father; he wasn't evil. He was just mean-spirited because he'd been raised that way. If he saw her, someone he'd known –even though he really didn't like her- for years, maybe that hard exterior would be broken off and he'd come to his senses and rescue her. But she'd never had such luck, and he continued avoiding her eyes.

Hermione thought that part hurt the most, as weird as it was. She knew she was stupid for counting on her enemy to save her, and not her best friend or her nearly-boyfriend. He was her best bet, but he didn't care enough. He would have let her die. Now she had to share a house with that bastard, and she wasn't happy about it at all.

He may have changed, but when she so much as pulled up her sleeves, she would be reminded of what he'd done; or rather, hadn't done.

"Granger!" she heard a shout come from where the opening in the wall was, outside in their small common room. Of course it was him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she yelled back through her door.

"We have to make plans for the prefects and I'd like to get it out of the way if you don't mind."

She quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a tight sweater, pulling her hair over one shoulder and leaving the safety of her room. Draco was loosening his tie, white shirt halfway unbuttoned. She forced herself to pull her gaze away from his muscles, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. His ego was big enough already.

"Nice of you to join me. Shall we get started?"

"Sure," she shrugs, sitting on an armchair colored maroon. He sits on the couch next to her with stripes, putting some papers down on the coffee table in front of them both.

"Pansy won't be able to make it in the second week. Neither will I. Quidditch practice, and maybe some celebration afterwards," he smirks suggestively.

"Disgusting," Hermione cringes. "I don't want to know what you're doing. Or rather, _who_ you're doing."

"Are you sure? You could be one of them."

Hermione scoffed. "You've got standards, though, right, Malfoy? Only pure or half-bloods."

"Fair point, Granger," he agrees. "I almost forgot about you being a mudblood while thinking about your other horrible qualities."

"Ron and I can do patrols after 7 next week."

"Looks like you're getting some, too," he smirks, writing their names down.

"That will be none of your business."

The rest of the planning is almost silent, a little bit of conversation to make sure they were both on board with a decision. They finally finish, and Hermione goes to her room, changing into a pair of jeans and converse shoes, heading to the Gryffindor common room to see Ron.

He was sitting on the couch, Harry on the other side, both staring at the fire with blank eyes. "Hello, Ron, Harry; is everything alright?"

They both look up at her. "'Mione! Yeah, we're okay. How was your first day?" he asked, patting the spot next to him, motioning for her to come sit between them. She did, and he put his hand on her knee.

"I'm nervous about some of these classes," she told them honestly.

"You'll pass them; you always do. Harry and I are the ones who should be worried about failing."

"Thanks, mate," Harry sighs from the other side of her. They all laugh quietly. "But he's right. You'll do great," Harry tells Hermione.

"I have a question for you, I'm glad you came," Ron says.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Do you want to go to the library with Harry and I to find some books? You know where to find the good ones."

Hermione looks at him, head tilted. She puts the back of her hand against his forehead. "Are you feeling alright? _You_ want to go to the library?"

"Shut up," he laughs, standing up and offering his hand to her. "We should go now before curfew."

The three of them walk down to the huge library. As soon as Hermione saw it, it took all her strength not to run to the large doors and gather some of her favorite books, hiding out in the back all night. She held tightly onto Ron's hand, who just laughed and gave hers a small squeeze.

They finally made it into the library after what seemed like ages of walking at the speed of a snail. She inhaled the smell of parchment, grinning. "You're so cute," Ron comments. She giggles; yes, _giggles_.

"Maybe I just look cute when I'm in love."

"That would explain why you've looked cute since I've known you," he teases. Harry trails awkwardly behind them, cringing and trying to hide it behind a random book he takes from the shelf.

"Of course it does," she laughs. He swings their arms between them as she looks intently at the broken spines of the dusty old books. When there are too many books for her to carry with one hand, she lets go of him. Only minutes later, he's holding a stack of her books up to his nose while she balances two in each hand. Harry's got his own stack going, dropping a few along the way.

The trio finally settles at a table in the back, piling all their books in a corner of it. Hermione goes back to look for another book while the boys stay and begin their reading. On the other side of the library, in the back corner, she hears moans. "Draco," they breathe, and she knows exactly what's going on just a few shelves away. Honestly, couldn't they find somewhere? He knew Hermione had left, so why did he have to hook up with a girl where _she_ always was? Heading back to her table, she shook off whatever petty jealousy was eating at her.


	5. 5- Previous Lover of My Best Friend

Ginny came over Friday night with her first assignment. "Why does anyone want to read a two-foot summary of what I did over our break? If you're curious, ask me," she complains.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "It's an easy grade boost. If you can't think of something, make something up."

"I never thought I'd see the day," Ginny teases. "Hermione Jean Granger telling me to lie on an assignment. What has gotten into you?"

"It's not an academic assignment. I'm just saying, an perfect grade on that could help you with a bad test score. What class is it for, anyway?"

"Divination."

"Oh," Hermione groans. "Never mind, just skip it."

Ginny laughs, setting her parchment and quill down on Hermione's desk. Hermione sits on the soft chair, grabbing a new piece of parchment and scribbling down a title. "When does quidditch start?" she asks Ginny, hoping she'd know. Apparently she was co-captain, sharing the title with her recently reinstated boyfriend, which she'd pulled a few strings to work back onto the team.

"Monday. We'll have practice from after dinner till six."

"Will you be able to cover any late shifts? Just till an hour after curfew."

"I'll try. I can get you our official schedule by next Wednesday if you want," she offers, looking up from her parchment.

"Thank you. I'm trying to work out scheduling for two weeks ahead. Dra- Malfoy can fill in the blanks."

Ginny laughs to herself at Hermione's name mishap. "You really like him, don't you?" she questions, saving Hermione the embarrassment of staring her down while she tries to answer the question. Besides, Ginny already knew Hermione had a bright blush on her cheeks.

"No, of course not. I'm dating Ron, your brother. Isn't this kind of a subject we shouldn't discuss?"

Ginny shakes her head. "First and foremost, I am your best friend. That is a choice, and being related to Ron is not."

"You're dating his best friend," Hermione points out.

"You can talk to me about anything. I won't tell my brother unless you asked me to," she promises.

"Okay," Hermione sighs. "I don't… _like_ him. Every time I-" Hermione quickly cuts herself off. Ginny doesn't know that the mudblood scar is still there, bold and new-looking, and if she mentioned it, Ginny would ask to see it. "Every time I think about the war, I think about what his family did, and what he did. I don't think I could ever really forgive him for that."

That wasn't a lie. More often than not, when she looked at him, she heard his mean comments and saw his disgusted glares directed at her, dating back to year one. Psychology studies show that seven positive comments make up for one mean comment. He'd have to spend the rest of his life saying nice things to her to make up for it. She almost wished he would.

It took Ginny an hour and a half to make up a dramatic injury story and write it all out. "Viktor Krum, previous lover of my best friend, visited me in the hospital a day later. He congratulated me on my legendary quidditch play, then proceeded to pester me about Hermione until security had to lead him out. In the end, the NQHR –National Quidditch History Record- was so threatened by having a non-professional, female player in the book that they just gave credits to the play to Viktor." Ginny sets down the parchment after she finishes reading it, looking to Hermione for her thoughts.

"Didn't he do that four years ago?" Hermione asks. She doesn't know much about quidditch, but she did date him for a short time.

Ginny shrugs. "She doesn't keep up with quidditch, I'm sure. It'll be fine."

"She might take some points off for mentioning me," Hermione laughs to herself.

"You hate her, she doesn't hate you. She probably doesn't even remember you that well," Ginny reminds Hermione.

"Fair point."

Ginny packs her things into her bag, looking around the room. "What time is it?" she finally asks.

"Just after four-thirty," Hermione informs her, pointing up at the big clock hanging over her door.

"Do you want to go down and get dinner?"

"I should finish this book by Monday and I have to patrol for tonight and most of tomorrow and Sunday. I won't have enough time to do it later."

"Where are you patrolling tonight?" Ginny asks. "I'll bring you some food."

Knowing she wouldn't give up, Hermione told her which area of the school to find her in. "Have a good dinner," Hermione waved to Ginny as she left the Head dorm.

As soon as Ginny left, Hermione locked her bedroom door, grabbing her book bag and emptying it on her bed. Closing the book she had pretended to busy herself with, she put Wintergirls inside the bag. While she didn't like the lack of intellectuality of it, she liked the themes it touched on. It kept her strong, in the way her friends wouldn't like or understand. She put in a bottle of water, a couple pills that she tried to always keep with her just in case, and a quill to write with.

Slinging the book bag over her shoulder, she leaves her room, closing the door behind her and putting a spell on it to lock it. It's only unlocked by her saying 'transfiguration'. Voice and password activation.

She nearly runs into Malfoy while leaving, quickly jumping out of the way of the portrait, avoiding Malfoy's gaze. "Leaving so soon, Granger?" he smirks.

"I'm going to go patrol the halls, like you should've been doing."

"Fine. I'll see you out there after dinner."

She nods half-heartedly, quickly brushing past him. Before she can get into the hall, Malfoy grabs the strap of her bag, making her stop. "Eat something, alright?" he asks seriously, looking into her eyes.

Hermione stares at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His eyes look deep and somber, matching the small frown on his face. "Um… I have to go," she excuses herself. He sighs, letting her bag go so she can walk through the portrait hole. She practically runs away from him, worried that he knew too much about what she was doing; more than any of her friends knew.

Hermione picked the quietest hall, sitting on the little ledge between the torches, hidden from anyone who looked down the hall. Opening her book, she reads at least five long chapters, making notes in the margins, until she is interrupted by someone's footsteps. Shoving the book and quill back in her bag, she stands up, pretending to have been making rounds. Just in time, too. The footsteps turn the hall, showing the blonde haired boy Hermione dreaded.

"Fancy meeting you here, Granger." She looks down at the plate of food in his hand. "Weaselette had a last-minute shag session with Pothead, she told me to give this to you," he answers her unsaid question, holding the plate out to her.

"Thanks…" she trails off. "You should go patrol the main halls."

"I think I'll stay until you're done," he crosses his arms over his chest. "Then I can run the plate back to the kitchen on my way." His tone is almost threatening.

"Uh… um, what if there are kids breaking the rules?"

"Then you better hurry up and eat."

Hermione sighs, going back to her spot on the ledge. She stares at the sand-colored wall, grabbing her water bottle out of her bag. If Malfoy was seriously going to wait until she was done eating, she had three options. Eat quickly, which wasn't a good choice but it would mean she had to spend less time with him. Eat slowly like she usually would, but he might notice her eating habits even more than he already has, plus it was on her if anyone broke the rules and Malfoy wasn't there to catch them. Or she could distract him, and make her food disappear. That would be the hardest task, but the best one.

Malfoy sits down next to her, not bothering to hide the fact that he's staring at her. She takes a bite of the turkey sandwich, eating it until it's halfway gone. She tries desperately to think of a distraction, until her luck finally comes through to her.

"I don't want to," a girl whines as the pair comes into view. The other girl, with brown hair instead of blonde like the first one, rolls her eyes.

"Stop tugging on my wrist! It's not going to change anything. You asked me for help, so I'm giving it to you."

The littler blonde girl sniffles, trying to pull away from the death grip on her wrist. "I don't even like him anymore! You don't need to tell him anything!"

Malfoy stands up, crossing his arms and walking into the middle of the hallway. The girls see him, immediately stopping in their paths. "Going somewhere?" he asks, eyebrow quirked.

The more confident brunette suddenly becomes a stuttering mess. Half because she knows she could get in trouble, and half because Malfoy is good looking.

Did Hermione really just call him good looking? It's not a secret, but usually she was able to overlook that in account of him being a huge prick.

"We were trying to find someone," the brunette says nervously.

"Were you? It looks like only one of you wanted to," he says, gazing down at her hand gripping the small girl's wrist, turning it red. She immediately lets go, shifting away from her friend.

Hermione takes her wand out of her bag, pointing it at the food on the plate. "Evanesco," she whispers. A small spark comes from the tip of her wand, and the food disappears into thin air, not leaving a single crumb behind. At least the plate was left.

She glances up to make sure Malfoy didn't see her cast the spell. The blonde girl looks over at her with knitted eyebrows, confused. Just as she opens her mouth, Hermione stands up and walks over to them, standing next to Malfoy.

"What year are you in?"

"She's in first, I'm in second," the brunette says.

"Just don't let it happen again, okay?" Hermione lets them off the hook. "And respect your friend's wishes."

They both nod, running off as soon as Malfoy turns away from them. "What was that for?" he asks. "I had them scared to death."

"You're heartless," Hermione shakes her head, walking back to the ledge.

He doesn't say anything back, gazing at her plate with confusion. "When did you finish eating?"

"Right after those girls walked in."

He sighs, shrugging and picking up the plate. "Okay. Control your bloody corridor, alright?" he almost jokes, picking up his bag and walking away. Hermione just rolls her eyes, digging through her bag for her book and opening it up to where she left off.


	6. 6- Even if You Were a Muggle

**(This will probably help the story to make more sense and I should have said it earlier, but at least for the first part if the narration refers to Draco as 'Draco', it's most likely going to be his thoughts. If it's 'Malfoy', it's Hermione's. It's the same way with her; if it uses her last name, the narration is more in Draco's mind. Hopefully that clears a couple things up!)**

Draco had spent 7 years thinking Granger was brilliant all around. Apparently she was only good at school, because she seriously expected him to believe that she ate half her food in a thirty second time span. He wasn't quite as smart as her –as much as he hated to admit it- but he was smart enough to know that she made her food disappear. Whether it was a spell, a charm, or just dumping it in a place he wouldn't look, she'd done something with it.

If she were a normal person, she would just tell him she wasn't hungry. But she obviously had a problem that made her an exception. He wasn't sure why he cared so much. People have eating disorders, and that's that. But every time he thought about Hermione with her ribs sticking out and her eyes hallow, or her head in the toilet bowl, a ponytail holding her hair out of her face as she threw up, sent a wave of dread and guilt straight to the pit of his stomach. He didn't like that feeling. And while he was constantly making up excuses for her in his mind, he knew she wasn't just one of those people who never have an appetite. It was more than that.

Her bloke-of-a-boyfriend didn't seem to notice, either. Maybe he just didn't care –after all, he got extra food out of this whole exchange. Draco hoped that he didn't know. If the weasel did, and didn't care, Draco would surely have his Head Boy title revoked. They don't reward Head Boys who beat up people, even if they deserve it.

He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, and convince himself that he didn't like her. He was just tolerating her. No one was walking through the halls anymore; most of them were already in their common rooms or dorms. This gave him nothing to do but leave him alone with his thoughts.

Draco looked up at the clock, which read '7:30'. He'd been here for about an hour. Like hell if he was going to subject himself to this torture for another two hours. Hermione would have the whole place covered. And really, what more did they need from him? He was about to have a complete schedule with his assignments, quidditch, and being head boy.

So he headed down the corridor, hoping he didn't run into McGonagall. Draco made it back to the somehow even quieter hallway where the portrait of Merlin hangs. "Felix felicis." The frame swings open, letting him inside their brightly, obnoxiously colored common room.

With no books to read and no assignments to complete, Draco wandered between the common room and his bedroom for a solid ten minutes before ripping a piece of parchment off his roll and scribbling a note to Blaise, telling him to come over. Opening his window, he sets the letter in his owl's beak, sending it off.

Draco hears footsteps, followed by the sound of the portrait opening to let someone in. He assumes it's Blaise, but stops dead in his tracks when he hears crying. Quickly hiding behind the door of his room, he presses his ear to the wall, trying to hear what's going on.

"Why are you letting it get to you?" he hears Weaselette ask.

The crying girl who must be Granger sniffles loudly. "I always have a sob-fest in the first week of school. I'm not used to being the mudblood girl after the summer, and it hurts every time I remember."

"You should have given that little prick detention or something. He can't disrespect anyone, let alone a bloody Head Girl. It would have been justified."

"My feelings are not reasoning for some kid to spend an hour doing nothing. It's only going to make him despise me more. I'll be fine," she sighs, sounding more comforting than Ginny. He'd have to find out somehow who that bloke was.

The second Granger shut her door, Draco sprints out of his room, jumping over the couch and getting to the portrait. It swings open, revealing Blaise who has his arm raised, about to knock. "Come on," Draco whispers, grabbing his arm and dragging him down the corridor.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asks, raising his eyebrow at Draco.

"Nothing," he rushes to say. "Granger is just yelling at me because I'm 'not taking being Head Boy serious enough.' You showing up would make it worse. I told her I was going to go patrol."

"You're acting like an old married couple already," he jokes, but Draco makes a list of reasons why their marriage wouldn't end up in shambles. Like his parents' had, for example.

"Yeah, listen, I have to go. Thanks for coming. I'll owl you sometime this week when I have more time," Draco excuses himself, turning to go back to the dorm.

"What if someone gives me detention for being out past curfew?"

"Tell them I requested you come see me, and if they need to, to ask me about it."

Blaise shrugs. "Alright. See you tomorrow."

Draco nods, walking back to the portrait and muttering the password. He nearly runs into the Weaselette, who's on her way out. She doesn't say hi, just glaring at him. "If you give Hermione any shit tonight, you will be sorry."

For such a short girl, she really scared him.

She walks past him, the portrait slamming shut behind her. Draco goes into his room, grabbing a small piece of parchment and his quill. After a long moment spent thinking, he scrawls down a sentence he's happy with.

He slinks out into the common room, fortunately seeing Granger's bag thrown on the couch. Slipping the letter inside it, he runs back to his room.

The whole night, he tried to sleep. But all he could think about was her.

. . .

When Hermione woke up the next morning, her makeup, ever so lightly applied the previous day, was smeared around her eyes, bringing out the bags she hardly knew were there before now. Looking over at the clock by her door, she noticed that the short hand was further than it usually was… Shooting out of bed with a start, she realized she had woken up an hour later than usual; only an hour to get ready, eat, and get to class. Hermione scavenges her room for a clean room, coming up empty handed. Maybe she left one in their common room. She walks out her bedroom door in her underwear, her eyes frantically searching for a robe that isn't wrinkled. Hermione sighs, her shoulders dropping in defeat as she accepts that she can't find any of her robes. When she turns to go back to her room, she crashes into a hard object; one with messy blonde hair.

"Malfoy!" Hermione yells, hands rushing to cover what skin she can.

"Granger," he smirks, quirking one eyebrow at her as he gazes up and down her body. She makes a sound of disgust, running past him and locking her door behind her. If that wasn't the worst thing that happened, she was reduced to wearing her school uniform. For six years, she was able to keep her robes organized and clean, and now she couldn't find a single one.

Knowing that she would be late for class if she didn't stop moping and start getting ready, she shed the small amount of fabric on her body, putting on clean underclothes and her white button-up, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Pulling a Gryffindor vest over it, she adjusts the white collar of her undershirt to display against the grey. She takes her matching grey skirt, tighter around her legs than the skirts she had to wear before, but not quite a pencil skirt. Hermione zips the zipper on her left hip, smoothing the skirt down and glancing at her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't as revealing as she had made it out to be, but her body was more defined than it was in her robes, which made her feel insecure. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that she'd woken up too late to go to breakfast.

Using concealer under her eyes and taming her hair into a ponytail –half of her hair was already falling from the binder- she grabs her book bag and heads across the castle to her first class. There are only a few students in the room when she arrives; Ginny included. Hermione sets her bag down on the table, digging through it to find her textbook and parchment. As she searches for her quill, a small piece of parchment, torn from the corner of a scroll, falls from the bag to the cold tiles of the floor. Hermione's eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and she leans down to grab the paper from the floor.

When she sits back on the wooden seat of her stool, she meets Malfoy's eyes, who is walking in with his blonde hair darkened and wet from the shower, strands sticking together and pointing in different directions. It looked as though he'd run a towel over it in a lame attempt to dry it, and not brushed it afterwards. Which Hermione assumes is probably what happened. His white button-up is only halfway done, and his Slytherin tie hangs loosely around his neck. Malfoy seems to have made a habit of making it to class just in the nick of time, yet look hot even though he's half asleep and hasn't put in much effort to look good.

Hermione blushed, breaking the quick staring contest they had going on and looking down at the desk. She sees Malfoy look away from the corner of her eye, continuing his walk to the aisle in the middle of the room and swaggering past her. She continued to gaze at the desk in front of her as if she could find an explanation to her sudden attraction to Malfoy if she looked at the dark grain long enough.

When she was sure he was at his seat and not near her, Hermione hid her hands under the desk and began unfolding the torn parchment. Maybe she had just taken a note and forgotten about it. She knew that wasn't it, though; Hermione rarely tore her parchment. It was almost a prized possession to her.

She read the sentence; once, twice, and then again until she lost count. Until each word was etched into her mind. Who was it from? Ginny? No, her handwriting was messier. Whoever had put it in her bag had the kind of writing where it was neat, but it was their own. The a's had curves over them, unlike the way most people wrote it; they wrote it the way an 'a' looked on her computer at home which was something she hadn't often seen in her peers' writing; or even her own. Hermione wasn't sure how she should feel; but there was no denying the smile that spread across her face as she read the sentence one last time before tucking it away in her bag.

_September 10, 1999  
You would still have more magic in you than that kid if you were a muggle._


	7. 7- Dumb Things

Granger had been in Draco's head all day. The first thing he'd really seen after waking up that morning was her nearly naked body; not only that, but he'd felt her chest against his. It gave him a strange feeling in his stomach. Yes, there was the obvious one of lust. There was no denying that Hermione was hot, especially now that he had seen her in nothing but a small bra and matching underwear. But there was something else; his heart leapt down into the pit of his stomach as he saw her. More than lust… it was something he couldn't describe.

His developing feelings for the curly-haired witch made him worry. After the war, Draco had come to find error in his thinking. For the first time in his life, he was forming different opinions from his parents'. He was more than a mere part of a group; he was more than a death eater. He was Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy had control over his life, starting immediately.

But he hadn't completely come to terms with his feelings. It took more than a few months to completely change his views. The thought of Draco with a… a mudblood… gave him a headache. It just seemed so wrong, but she was all he could think about. Her brilliance, her effortless beauty, her humor… he wanted to know everything about her.

And if that wasn't enough to keep Granger in his mind, her expression when she read the letter made his heart melt. She focused on it for at least five minutes, completely ignoring the beginning of the lecture the class had been receiving. When she turned to put it back in her bag, he caught the side of her face, lips pressed together as she tried to hide her smile.

And in that moment, in the middle of potions class, he vowed to himself that he would do whatever it takes to keep making her smile like that.

Of course she couldn't know that he was the one writing the letters. Granger would never smile like that if she knew he was at the source of the writing. He might not be able to spend his time with her, but he could make her happy. That was all he truly cared about.

At lunch, Draco got out of class and immediately took off for the Head dorm. He was grateful to see that Granger wasn't there, as he'd thought. Throwing his bag on the floor, leaning against the wall, Draco sits against the pillows in his bed. Undoing his slick black belt and pushing the denim of his black skinny jeans, baggy in the legs, down his thighs, Draco rubs his palm against the growing tent in his boxers. His head falls back against the top of the pillows, neck exposed to the cold air.

The blonde-haired boy decides he can't wait anymore. Tugging his boxers down his legs, Draco spits into his palm and rubs along his length. "Bloody hell," he swears under his breath, finally getting the contact he had craved for weeks. His thumb runs along his red, swollen tip, spreading the small amount of clear precum around his shaft to use as additional lubrication.

As he starts a slow pace, he thinks about Hermione. The way she looked this morning, so innocent yet sexy; Merlin, he just wanted to bend her over the arm of the tacky couch in their common room and spank her for being such an adorable, brilliant little know-it-all. Almost as much as he wanted her to be _his_ adorable, brilliant little know-it-all.

_Stop it, Draco. Honestly_, he thinks to himself. _No feelings right now, just lust._

Draco's pace speeds up, his hips moving in time to meet his large hand. Fantasies fill his mind; things as simple as him kissing her, to as detailed as the view of him thrusting into her, Granger's knees hooked over his shoulders as she moans. "F-fuck!" he curses. "Hermione!"

As Draco nears his release, he hears light footsteps trailing closer. Swearing under his breath, he quickly stuffs his aching erection back into his boxers, buckling his jeans just in time. The door opens and none other than Granger walks through.

"What's wrong?" she asks, sticking her head in. She has a worried look settled on her facial features.

"W-what do you mean?" he stutters, trying to ignore the snake in his pants.

She squints at him, confused. "You called for me. And you didn't say 'Granger.'"

Realization hits Draco, and he tries his best to hide his flustered state. She must have heard him yell her name when he was about to come. "Oh… Just wondering what time it was. I fell asleep."

She rolls her eyes. "You couldn't check for yourself?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "It's eleven fifty. You've got ten minutes to get to your next class. Good luck… You look like you just saw a dementor." With that, Granger walks out, closing his door behind her.

He groans, knowing he won't get much further unless he wants to be late for class. Glancing at himself in his mirror, he sees exactly what Granger noted. His face is paler than usual, sweat dripping down his forehead, hair wet. Draco runs a hand through his hair, making it look more natural, and readjusts his white button-up over his groin to hide what's left of his arousal.

After picking his book bag up and slinging the strap over his shoulder, Draco joins Granger in their common room. She's hovered over the desk, hands on the oak, leaning on it. That image didn't help his hormonal mind. As Draco got closer, he noticed the curve of her breasts, even under her button-up and thick vest. While it wasn't exactly a schoolgirl uniform, she wasn't in those robes anymore, and that was a step in the right direction.

"What's wrong?" Draco asks when he notices her eyes narrowed, staring at a piece of parchment intently. For a quick second, Draco thought she might be looking at the letter he'd given her again. But he then noticed that this piece was bigger, with more writing, and dismissed the thought from his mind.

"McGonagall wants to see us. During our next class. What could we have done?" she questions to herself, sounding incredibly worried.

"There's no use in wondering; let's just go," Draco says, fixing his tie before heading out with Granger to go get lectured by the Headmistress.

He hears her footsteps on the cold stone floor, trying to catch up to his long strides. Without realizing it, Draco is slowing down for her until she is by his side.

"So, why the sudden change in outfit?" he asks her in an attempt to seem nicer.

Granger looks to the floor, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of red. "I couldn't find any of my robes."

Draco shrugs. "I think these look nicer."

She doesn't respond, only gives him a confused glance as they continue down the corridor. After another silent few minutes of walking and climbing staircases, they reach the Headmistress's office. Granger shares a look with Draco before raising her arm, knocking on the door. It swings open a few seconds later to display the large room cluttered with papers, books, and furniture. It seemed that each item inside had a thick layer of dust gathering over it, as if it hadn't been used or even touched in years.

The two of them walked up the small staircase, rounded into a half-circle. McGonagall's desk sat on the higher floor, a railing separating the two identical staircases. Standing, the Headmistress greets the two Heads, then motions for them to sit in the leather chairs in front of her desk. "I'm terribly sorry for taking you from your studies. I have an issue, however, and I'd like to call it to your attention.

"As you know, the war that took place in the wizarding world last year tore everyone apart. You two were on opposite sides; and I am aware that that is a bit of an understatement. My goal this year is to start bringing witches and wizards alike together again, as the dark side doesn't seem to be much of a threat to us as of now." Draco swears McGonagall looked at him when she said that, like he would correct her if he knew anything about the dark side rising. Luckily, his life didn't really revolve around that any longer. "I am announcing tonight at dinner that we will require students to take trips with others when we visit Hogsmeade this weekend."

Granger seems taken aback, immediately beginning to spout questions at McGonagall. "What do you mean? Groups? What kind of groups? Who will they entail? Will students still be able to spend time with their friends? How are you expect-"

Draco cuts her off, getting to the important question. "How is that supposed to solve anything?"

Granger glances at him from the corner of her eye, surprised by his bluntness, but nonetheless, nods furiously, agreeing.

"We will pair Slytherins and Gryffindors together, since that seems to be the biggest house rivalry. And to make it fair, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students will be together. If students are able to answer basic questions about the other person, each passing grade will receive ten points towards their house."

"I don't mean to be rude," Granger interjects, "but how will we know if the students are really overcoming their differences, or only trying to get the house points? They could simply ask the standard questions about each other, then leave."

McGonagall nods. "Yes, I suppose they could do that. I intend to tell them how they can earn the house points. However, they won't know the exact questions they need to answer, and even if they somehow get the basics, at least the students will be talking to each other. That is all we can ask for."

"How does this pertain to us?" Draco asks, crossing his arms.

"As Head Girl and Boy, Miss Granger from Gryffindor, Mister Malfoy from Slytherin, you two are known schoolwide as rivals. If the two of you were to… become friends… it might give the others some motivation to let go of their grudges. There is no reason to have rivalries in this school that go deeper than quidditch."

"So what? We have to go to Hogsmeade together?"

"For an hour," McGonagall confirms Draco's question. "Please _try_ to act civilized. I'm counting on the two of you."

Granger nodded and said "Of course, Headmistress" at the same moment Draco rolled his eyes and said "No promises."

He really needed to work on this whole "being nice" thing.

Ignoring the hurt on his soulmate's face and the glare directed at him by his Headmistress, Draco stands up. "Are we done here?"

McGonagall sighs and nods. "Yes, yes. Return to class. Tell your teachers to excuse your tardiness. I expect the two of you to deliver on this."

Granger politely says goodbye as Draco turns on his heel and hurries down the stairs and out of the office that felt like it was about to close in on him. As he's halfway down the corridor, he hears a door shut behind him, no doubt Granger.

"You can be a real prick sometimes!" she shouts at him.

Draco doesn't even turn to look at her; he can't bring himself to do it. The moment he sits down in his next class, he takes out more parchment and his quill, tearing three inches from the roll.

_September 11, 1999  
You're a smart witch, yet you don't seem to know what dumb boys do when they love smart women.  
-dumb things, very dumb things._


	8. 8- Team Effort!

Saturday morning rolled around all too soon for Hermione. Since their meeting with McGonagall, they hadn't said more than a word to each other. She was not looking forward to their mandatory trip to Hogsmeade together. All she wanted to do was spend some much-needed time with her best friends, but she had to spend a full hour with Malfoy before she was allowed to do so. All Hermione had to do was know the basics of Malfoy. She had a strange feeling that she didn't really want to, though.

When McGonagall had made the announcement, it was welcomed with loud groans from almost every student. Ron –actually making an appearance that night- complained for the remainder of dinner, wanting nothing more than to "spend time with his favorite girl and his best friend." The thought made Hermione blush, knowing he really wanted to spend time with her.

Keeping her best friends in mind, she pulls a sweater and a pair of her blue skinny jeans out, tugging them on over her underclothes. A part of her hopes that Ron might take her on a date, so she spends extra time styling her hair and applying makeup. Once she's satisfied with herself, she gathers her money, wand, and a book in her purse and heads to her common room.

Malfoy sits on the couch, head leaning in the palm of his hand. Hermione observes that he seems to be half asleep. "Are you ready?" she asks, and he turns to look at her.

Pausing, Malfoy finally answers. "Yeah… Let's get this over with."

"Charming," she mutters, rolling her eyes and heading toward the portrait hole without a second glance at him. By the loud footsteps trailing behind her, she knows he's following her.

The Head Girl and Boy meet the small crowd of students, waiting to be sorted with a partner. When McGonagall spots the pair, she ushers them up to where she stands in front of the large doors. "Can you two read off the partners for me? I have some business I need to attend to."

Hermione nods, holding out her hand to take the papers McGonagall is holding. She shoots Hermione a grateful look, handing them off and hurrying past the crowd of students and down the corridor.

Hermione turns to Malfoy, paging through the stack handed to her. "You take Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff; I'll do Gryffindor and Slytherin."

She hands him the partners for the two houses, taking her own and scanning through the list. Cringing when she reaches the 7th year partners, she searches the crowd for any of her friends. Just then, Ginny approaches her with a nervous look on her face. "Are those the partners?" she asks, pointing to the paper Hermione holds.

"Yep…" Ginny gives her a look, telling her to continue. "Er… you're with Pansy."

A look of pure horror overtakes her features. "You're not serious. Hermione Jean Granger, this is _not_ funny."

Hermione sighs, nodding sadly. "I'll see what I can do." Taking out her wand, she scans for other Slytherins. "What about Zabini? He's not… he's not too bad."

Ginny sighs, nodding. "Yeah, sure. It can't get much worse than Parkinson, so Zabini will work."

Hermione switches the partners using her wand. After further examination, she realizes Ginny took Harry's partner, leaving him with Parkinson. When she shares the information with Ginny, she only laughs. "He'll appreciate me even more after this." Hermione just rolls her eyes, smiling.

When everyone attending is gathered by the doors, Malfoy walks back over to Hermione. "We should start reading off names," he suggests, and she agrees. He walks past her, over to a ledge in the wall. Malfoy climbs up, standing about four feet above the crowd now. He reaches out to Hermione, taking her hand and helping her up on the ledge emerging from the wall. She clears her throat, straightening her sweater as she tries to ignore the feeling sparking from her palm where they touched. Scanning the crowd for Ron, she finds him, sending him a small smile which makes his jealous glare at Malfoy disappear.

Malfoy says a quick spell under his breath, and Hermione follows his lead. Their wands start to project their voices, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'm sure we all want to get this mandatory hour over, so everyone shut up long enough for us to read off your partners," Malfoy begins, and Hermione nudges him, plastering a fake smile on her face for the crowd.

Malfoy starts off, reading the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff pairings. Ten minutes later when he finishes, Hermione announces the first pairing. It is immediately met with groans, and Hermione sighs quietly. This is going to take a while.

As she reads through the list, she sends apologetic looks to her friends, all besides Ginny. Zabini, although he's in Slytherin and is Malfoy's friend, seems like an alright person at heart. Ron gets paired up with a guy who was in Ginny's year before the war, so she wasn't sure if he was a bad person.

Taking twice as long to read these pairings as the other houses', they finally leave after half an hour. Malfoy and Hermione lead, and Ginny and Zabini run up to join them. "There's no rule against being with other people, is there?" Zabini smirks at Malfoy, nudging him.

"Nope. Guess there are worse people you could've gotten paired up with. Unlike m-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence when I'm right next to you," Hermione glares at Malfoy, her hand gripping her wand tightly.

"What are you going to do, hex me? Hopefully you're better at it than your boyfriend was in second year."

"Wow," Hermione laughs sharply. "You're never going to let that go?"

Malfoy shakes his head, laughing obnoxiously with Zabini.

When they're done, Zabini leans forward to look at Hermione and Ginny. "Where do you ladies want to go first?"

"Three Broomsticks," the girls answer in unison, sharing a knowing look. A butterbeer wouldn't hurt.

"Three Broomsticks it is," he nods, and they continue down the winding trail to the Inn.

"So McGonagall told me what we need to know for this 'test'. Their favorite store in Hogsmeade, and one thing they bought in the hour we had to spend together. So I guess I know both of Granger's," Malfoy laughs.

It took what felt like an hour to get to Hogsmeade, when it was really only a ten minute walk. By the time they plopped down in a booth at the Inn, friends sitting by friends, Hermione was ready for a Butterbeer. While it wasn't as strong as the normal beer, which she could now legally have, it tasted good and it still made her drunk if she had at least three. Ginny coaxed Hermione to get back up and order with her. They got a round for the table, sitting on the bar stools as they waited.

"This worked out rather well," Ginny concluded.

"That it did. Once this is over, we'll go find Harry and Ron."

Ginny nods. "I'm so excited for this. I've been looking forward to a butterbeer since we arrived on the train to Hogwarts."

Hermione giggles, agreeing. The drinks are finished shortly after, a layer of foam laying over the top a few inches thick. Each girl grabs two drinks, and Hermione sets the ones she's carrying in front of Malfoy and Zabini.

"Thanks, baby doll," Zabini shoots her a wink. "With service like this, you'll be getting a rather large tip. Maybe even more."

"Aw, haven't you heard?" Malfoy joins in on his joke. "Her favorite game is 'just the tip.'"

"Pity," he shakes his head in mock disappointment.

Hermione slides into the booth, against the wall and across from Malfoy. "That would be a lot funnier if I were drunk," she concludes, grabbing her own butterbeer and taking a large gulp. She knew then that there was no way she wasn't going to have at least five drinks in the next hour.

Three empty glasses and a newly filled fourth glass later, Hermione was hiccupping and giggling at everything. Ginny had stopped at two, which was probably a good idea. Right now, Hermione could hardly see straight.

"So," she leans across the table, resting her elbows in front of her and faking enthusiasm and interest. "What _is _your favorite store here? I must know. It's for school, you see," she giggles.

Malfoy laughs at her state. "Well, if you _must_ know, it's the book store."

"Intriguing," she says to herself, loud enough for him to hear. "Are you a book nerd too?"

"I'm more into fiction than history."

Hermione nods thoughtfully. "Alright, I can respect that. How 'bout you give me one of your favorite books, and I'll give you one of mine! I'll even make it a historical fiction, just for you."

"Sure, Granger. A good old book swap, sounds nice."

Hermione nods furiously, turning back to her drink and sipping some foam from the top.

"You know, I think it's odd how the Head Boy and Girl share a room. It's a lot like having one roommate of the opposite gender. I thought Hogwarts was more of a prude than me!" She bursts out laughing at her comment. "Because I'm _so_ much of a prude."

"I'd offer to change that for you," Malfoy jokes.

"Oh sure, let's go shag in the bathroom!" Hermione giggles.

Malfoy stands up quickly, wobbling the table since he's still hovering over the booth. Hermione rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him. He sits back down, faking a pout. "You can't joke about sex like that, Granger. It's not nice."

"I've done worse."

"I bet you have," he smirks. "I saw what you were wearing the other morning. You buy that for someone special to see?"

"Yes, actually. It was for you. I planned the whole incident, starting by hiding all my robes."

Malfoy pumped his fist into the air. "I knew it!"

"Sure you did," Hermione plays along, taking another drink of her butterbeer.

"You're a lot more fun when you're drunk."

"So I've been told. You're a lot more tolerable when I'm drunk."

"Team effort!" he smiles, holding his hand up in the air. She gives him a high-five, nearly snorting as she laughs at absolutely nothing.

Next to her, Ginny shakes her head. "Hermione, you are _so_ drunk."

She only shrugs, taking another drink. "We should go… we should go _do something_."

"What do you want to go?" Malfoy asks.

"We only have ten minutes left until we can go see Harry and Ron," Ginny reminds her.

Hermione ignores her friend, staring across the table at Draco. "Let's go to Dominic Maestro's."

Ginny groans. "Count me out. I want to see my _boyfriend_, unlike you, apparently."

The three of them look at Blaise. "Er, I'll stay here with Ginny. Meet up with you later, Draco?"

He nods at his friend in confirmation, sliding across the booth to get out when Blaise stands up. Hermione does the same when Ginny reluctantly follows Blaise's lead. Malfoy heads toward the door, and Hermione rushes to keep up with him, waving goodbye to her red-headed friend over her shoulder.

Dominic Maestro's was a small music store on the outskirts of the town. It had not only popular wizard bands, but some of Hermione's favorite muggle bands also had records in there. She led the Head Boy there, sighing contently as she opened the door and the bell rang.

A boy a few years older than the pair appeared, walking out of the back room. "Hey, how's it going?" he asks them, stopping behind the counter.

"Goood," Hermione grins.

The boy laughs. "Can I help you find anything?"

"Where do you keep your muggle music?"

He sits on the desk, turning and throwing his legs to the other side and hopping back down to the wooden floorboards. "Follow me."

He leads the pair to the back of the store, to a shelf stretching all the way across the wall. "This is all of our muggle music. No one really buys it, but some of them are pretty rare now. Hopefully you can find something in your price range."

"Do you have a record player?"

After the boy points it out, he returns to the back room, leaving Hermione and Malfoy essentially alone in the store. Hermione turns to the large shelf of music. Starting in the A section, she browses through the dusty records. The first one she finds is from The Beatles, one of her favorite bands growing up. Her parents loved them, and played their music in the house almost constantly before she got her Hogwarts letter.

Setting the record on the player, the needle presses against it and quiet string instruments fill her ears. The lyrics begin, gentle and unique. Hermione almost felt like she was home in that moment.

Looking over at Malfoy to gauge his reaction, she was surprised to see him staring at the record player, as if that would help him hear the music. A part of her wondered if this would be a mistake, seeing as he hated everything muggle-made, including herself. But he seemed to have an appreciation for the new style of song.

As the short song comes to an end, Hermione takes the record from the player and slides it back into its case. While she would have loved to share the whole album with someone, they only had so much time to spend at the store. Flipping the case over, she searches for the price, and her eyes widen.

"What?" Malfoy asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her reaction.

She shakes her head, setting the record back down where she found it. "Nothing, it's just more expensive than I thought it might be is all."

"How much?"

"Ten galleons."

"Wow, that's more than I was expecting."

"Me too."

Hermione tried to forget about it. She wasn't poor, but she wasn't very rich, either. A part of her knew she shouldn't spend her money on that, but a different part of her wished she would.


	9. 9- Never Felt As Right As This

Draco had lost track of time in that store - Granger seemed so excited to show him her favorite bands. He never really thought of her liking music; he'd only seen her reading books, and, for some reason, only thought of her doing that in her free time. As she pulled out records of old bands, she explained to him how she knew them, and what her favorite song was.

Even as they listened through at least fifteen other bands, he could tell that Granger had some sort of connection to the first song she played – he later learned that it was called "Something." He had to admit, it was a lot better than a lot of the wizard bands he'd liked before.

Granger had finished going through all the bands, A-Z, and had a small stack of records including Journey, Billy Joel, Pearl Jam, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Draco almost felt different – today was something he never would have predicted to happen. When she goes up to the register to pay, Draco catches a glimpse of the outside world from the large window overtaking most of the front wall. The sun is scraping the horizon, minutes away from sending orange and red streaks through the sky.

Granger hands over five galleons to the guy behind the register, collecting her records in her arms as the two of them step into the increasingly colder air. The streets are busy with young witches and wizards heading toward the carriages. Almost instantly, a blur of red hair approaches the Head Boy and Girl. "Where the hell have you been?!" Weaslette screams at Granger. "It's been three hours since I last saw you!"

Granger holds her hand up in surrender, one still holding her records. "I lost track of time, it's not that big of a deal."

"Hermione," she frowns, looking exhausted. "We haven't seen you all week. And you just decide to get drunk and run off to a record store with Malfoy! Not to mention the fact that you had a date with Ron that you completely stood up."

"Honestly," Granger rolls her eyes. "Maybe I would have shown up if your bloody brother was a better boyfriend. Did we have a date? Because I seem to be the only one who was not informed of it."

"Maybe you should take up your issues with your boyfriend _with him_. Where is your mind?"

"It's not my fault that none of us have seen each other much this week! It's not, and you're all blaming me and I'm sick of it all being my fault. _Everything is my fault_. I get it."

Draco was completely shocked. Granger seemed to be losing it – ripping at the seams. He could feel her anger and annoyance, and he couldn't watch it anymore.

"We're blaming you because it's your fault!" Weaslette yelled, her face close to Granger's. "You think you're so bloody fancy because you're the fucking _Head Girl_, and nothing you do could ever be wrong! You stopped making time for us and that is _all on you_!"

Draco physically separates them, pushing himself in front of Granger. "Step off, Weaslette."

"Excuse me? How the fuck do you think you're involved?" She scoffs in his face, crossing her arms. "Just because you want to shag Hermione, doesn't mean you have any right to budge yourself into her life, let alone _mine_."

"Watch your mouth, Ginger. Maybe you and your bloody brother should be less concerned with blaming Granger for something out of her control –and quite frankly, more your fault than hers- and more concerned with the fact that your best friend and his girlfriend is anorexic."

"What?" the two girls ask in unison. Weaslette's eyes widen in surprise. Draco notices Granger's voice is nothing more than a squeak, confirming his words.

And just on fucking queue, the Chosen One and Weasel show up behind the tiny red-head. "What's going on?" Potter asks.

Draco moves to the side, enough so that he isn't in the middle of the two girls. "You're starving yourself again?" Ginny asks in a small voice, loud enough for just the five of them to hear.

"You're what?" Weasel gasps, like it was some big secret.

Potter just whispers a quiet, "Hermione…" with a large frown on his face.

He catches Granger practically run away from them, tears falling down her cheeks. When her friends try to go after her, Draco stands in their way, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. "Leave her alone."

"You're a real bloody piece of work, ferret," Weasel glares at him.

"Yeah? At least I noticed when someone was starving themselves, instead of ignoring it so I could eat the rest of their food. She deserves better than some poor git."

Weasel laughs humorlessly. "Oh, like who? _You_?"

"Yeah. _Me_."

Hermione didn't feel like waiting for the next carriage home. She knew her friends were going to try to follow her, but she only wanted to be alone. Walking down the dirt path leading to the castle, she stared at her feet and willed herself to hold in her tears. Even though she knew Malfoy was onto her, she didn't know that he was so confident in his guesses.

The second she walked into her empty common room, she collapsed. The cold wall was behind her back, her fists clasped together in her lap. She sat like that for ten minutes, before she finally began to accept what had happened. In Malfoy's defense, he was right about both things; her being anorexic, and her friends not noticing. Even she thought she was being fairly obvious.

Grabbing a book from her shelf and opening it, she sat on the couch reading. Hermione half wanted to talk to Malfoy about it. Half of her also wanted to punch him, but she knew it wasn't really justified. Almost an hour later, the portrait swung open revealing the fair-haired Head Boy, eyes red and his forehead glistening with sweat.

"Granger," he says, obviously surprised to see Hermione on the couch and not locked up in her room, crying.

"Malfoy," she responds, sounding lighthearted which confused him even more so.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry about what I said… I… I didn't even know if it was true, and even if it was, it's not my place to say. I just got angry with Weas- Ginny, for blaming you. It's not your fault. I know it's hard to make time for your friends with all the responsibilities we have, and you're doing a better job at it than I am."

At this point, Malfoy was standing almost in front of her. Hermione shakes her head. "I never thought I'd live to see the day that Draco Malfoy apologizes to me – or stands up for me, for that matter."

"I was a royal prick."

"You've done worse," Hermione shrugs.

Malfoy frowns, plopping down next to her. "I know."

Hermione looks at the bag in his hands. "What did you buy?" she asks, pointing to the plastic.

"Oh," he nods, like he forgot about it. "Yeah, it's for you."

He hands it to her, and she takes it slowly, setting it in her lap. Hermione waits for Malfoy to tell her he was joking, but he doesn't, just nodding and urging her to take the item out of the bag.

Inside is a thin paper cover, with something plastic inside; the record.

"You got it?" she asks, examining the faded red paper closely. The songs on the Beatles album are typed onto the back, starting with her favorite song; "Something."

"Take it as an apology gift."

"This is too much," she instantly says. "It was ten galleons."

"It's my family's fortune anyway. It's nothing, really. As long as you let me listen to it occasionally," he jokes, and she nods.

"Of course." Looking back down at the record in her lap, she bites her lip. "Thank you." Turning awkwardly in her spot on the couch, she wraps her arms around his neck in a loose hug. Malfoy is still for a moment, before gradually hugging her back, arms around her waist.

"You're welcome, Hermione."

* * *

_September 15, 1999  
I once read that real girls are not perfect, and perfect girls are not real. But I guess whoever said that, has never met you._

Hermione stared at the note in potions class, which immediately brightened her day. It was the third one she'd gotten, each of them in the same format and handwriting. They also brightened her day each time she read one.

It wasn't until now, as she sat alone in the classroom, thirty minutes early, that she had a sudden urge to find out who was sending her these. At first, she just appreciated the thought. Maybe whoever was sending them was just reminding her, but they kept coming and she hoped they wouldn't stop. Surely someone with such kind words wouldn't want to hide it forever?

Regardless, Hermione was grateful for the anonymous admirer. She hadn't spoken to Ginny, Harry, or Ron in four days. For some reason, Ginny was still mad at _her_, and ignored her in class, moving to sit by someone else and leaving her at their table alone. So far, they hadn't had to do any partner activities which was good for Hermione. She hated feeling like everyone was pitying her; she was perfectly fine doing work on her own.

Harry didn't seem mad at her; they'd both been busy, him having quidditch now. And Hermione was avoiding Ron, nervous about their inevitable breakup. She knew they couldn't be together, especially right now, but they never really said that they were exclusive, or more than best friends.

She was sick of dwelling over her failing relationships. She didn't understand her friends, and they didn't understand her. Right now, she could honestly say that Draco Malfoy was her best friend, which was completely backwards. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if he had a romantic interest in her. She instantly brushed the idea off, knowing he may have changed after the war, but he would never love a mudblood.

At the thought of the word, Hermione pulled up the sleeve of her button-up shirt, gazing at the dark red letters scarred into her skin. She'd traced them too hard the other night, nearly passing out from the blood loss. That wouldn't have been a good situation if Draco had decided to check on her before going to bed. She might scare him half to death. Luckily, she cleaned herself up, wrapping some bandages around her forearm just as she fell asleep.

As if he could sense her thoughts becoming darker, Draco entered the classroom. "You're early today," he notes, taking in the otherwise empty classroom.

"I couldn't sleep, and I didn't feel like getting yelled at if I went to breakfast."

"She's being mental," Draco reminds Hermione.

"I know. I'm sick of it, though."

He pauses, glancing at the empty seat next to her. "Mind if I sit with you today?" Hermione shakes her head, moving her bag from the seat and onto the table in front of her. Draco takes a seat next to her, his shoulder only inches away from hers. "She'll come around. Your friendship isn't that fragile. Just talk to her; she probably feels like you don't care enough to tell her about your problems, or that you don't trust her."

Hermione looks down at her lap, shaking her head. "I just didn't want to stop… and I felt horrible for worrying her." Looking up at the blonde haired boy, she sighs, her shoulders drooping. "And I don't even know why I'm telling _you _this."

"You know I've learned my lesson. I won't tell anyone. And if I do, I suppose you'll be getting another album," he jokes, causing her to laugh quietly.

"I guess it's not a total loss," she agrees.

Draco pauses, the smile disappearing from his features, worry overtaking his face. "Can I ask you something?" Hermione nods slowly, knowing whatever he's about to say isn't going to be an easy answer. "Why don't you let yourself eat?"

She lets out a breath, expecting as much. "Take a look around. What is different between me and all the other girls here with boyfriends who really love them?" She pauses, even though she doesn't expect him to answer. "They're all beautiful. So maybe by being as skinny, I can start to be as pretty."

She feels Draco's calloused fingers under her chin, pulling her face up gently to make her eyes meet his. "Hermione Granger, you are the most beautiful witch I have ever set my eyes upon. No one here could hold a candle to you, I swear to you that much."

Their faces were moving closer together, as if being pulled by a magnetic force. She didn't want it to stop, even though she knew she shouldn't kiss another boy. Before she could back out, Draco's soft pink lips brushed against hers, and she knew she would never stop their kiss. Her eyelashes flutter closed, tickling Draco's cheeks as his lips press harder against hers, and they share a sweet kiss. There's no lust, only passion and sweetness and reassurance to his words.

As the tip of his tongue traces along her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to him, she has her strangest thought of the day; _Kissing Ron has never felt as right as this._


	10. 10- Peer Pressure

Hermione had to talk to her friends. She knew she had to. She had blown up at them, and it wasn't fair to them. That evening, she decided to go to dinner. Harry was the first one to see the curly-haired witch heading towards the Gryffindor table, and he grinned. The siblings followed his gaze, eyes landing on her. Hermione could tell that they had mixed reactions, even from several feet away, but she continued to the table. Sitting down next to Ron, she sighed before opening her mouth. "I'm sorry. About everything."

"I'm sorry, too," her best friend says instantly, her features instantly softening. "I shouldn't have been mad at you, I just got worried when you didn't show up after a while…"

Hermione nods understandingly. "I was just stressed from school; it's been busy and I've only really seen you guys," she looks between Ron and Harry, "when we went to the library to study. And Ginny, we haven't had a lot of time to really talk. I'm going to figure out a better schedule because I really miss you all."

"We have to make an effort, too," Harry cuts in. "The three of us have quidditch practice constantly, and you're the Head Girl. It's hard to clear space; I get it. All of us do. We were just upset because we finally got an opportunity where all four of us were free, but you went with Malfoy of all people, and didn't tell us."

Hermione agrees with their logic, knowing she should have kept better track of time at the store. "I was really drunk; I don't have any excuse." Hermione pauses, turning to look at Ron alone. "And I know I haven't been a great…" she hesitates, not knowing exactly what to refer to herself as. "I haven't been a great girlfriend and I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, dismissing her apology while confirming the fact that they were, in fact, officially dating. "I'm a horrible boyfriend. I miss you, 'Mione. Are you doing anything on Friday night?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Malfoy is patrolling, so I'm free for a night."

"I'll meet you outside your dorm and take you on a real date," he promises. She breaks into a wide grin, blushing at the thought.

"Sounds great," she agrees, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Ron's ears turn red, spreading across his freckled face to match the color of her own.

"Are we alright?" Harry asks Hermione.

"Of course. I've missed you all."

Ginny beams. "We've missed you too." She rises, running the few feet to the end of the table, and over to Hermione's side. They hug, the breath being practically knocked out of Hermione because of Ginny's tight grip. "We're going to talk later," she whispers, pulling back and flashing her concerned-mom expression, probably pertaining to what Dra - Malfoy had revealed last Saturday.

"Can't wait."

* * *

Ginny was waiting for Hermione outside of Charms, her last class, on Friday afternoon. Instantly, Hermione felt a hand wrap around her wrist, and she was being pulled off into the crowd.

"Hello to you, too, Ginny," Hermione laughs, running to keep up with her. They passed multiple students, and Hermione muttered apologies to kids that Ginny had bumped into.

Ginny didn't say anything until the two of them were well in front of the crowd. "We're going to your dorm so I can help you get ready for your date."

"It's in two hours," Hermione reminds her. "We have time."

"We don't. Now hurry up!" Ginny yells over her shoulder, releasing Hermione as they jog up the stairs. Hermione keeps a careful hand on the wooden railing as they jerk around, moving to the left. After climbing multiple sets, Ginny is still ten feet ahead of her. Hermione fights the urge to pause and catch her breath, but her redheaded friend shows no signs of being tired.

Finally, they reach the portrait of the old wizard. He raises his eyebrow at their earliness. "Felix...Felicis," Hermione pants. It swings open, the two of them stepping inside.

"Hey, hold the portrait!" someone says behind them. Hermione turns to see Malfoy rushing over to them. Hermione sticks her hand out, pushing the portrait open until he's only a foot away. "Thanks," he shoots her a lopsided grin, one that sends knots into Hermione's stomach.

They'd hardly talked since their kiss on Wednesday morning. That was mostly because Hermione wasn't sure what to say. It had all happened so suddenly. She didn't want to lead on the handsome Head Boy, but she couldn't explain to him how she felt; she didn't know, herself.

The smile was practically wiped off his face when he spotted Ginny standing behind her. "Hi…" he trails off.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. "Hi."

"Right, so… I'm patrolling tonight, right?" he asks, turning back to Hermione.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course. Have fun, then." He nods at the two girls, retreating to his room and closing the door behind him.

Ginny clears her throat. "That wasn't awkward."

Hermione shrugs, trying to act normal about the situation. "Let's just work on making me presentable." She leads Ginny into her room across from Malfoy's, closing the door behind her.

Ginny lectures her on the important of telling her best friend when something is wrong, what it is, etc. She all but forced Hermione to take her robes off, so Ginny could check her wrists; and of course she found the mudblood scars. After another long lecture, while she dug through Hermione's clothes in search of something Hermione could wear on her date, she laid out her chosen clothes.

Starting with her best pair of black underwear, the front made almost entirely of maroon lace with a matching bra, she put that on and looked in the mirror. "If I weren't dating Harry, I'd go gay for you. Or at least bisexual," Ginny says from behind her, voicing her approval. Hermione rolls her eyes, laughing.

Over that, Hermione tugs on a slim black dress that just barely covers her thighs. A long, short rectangle is cut out of the back, exposing some of her pale skin. The tight fabric clings to her in a –hopefully- flattering way. Ginny simply nods at her before sitting her down on her bed, pulling some makeup out of her bag and setting it on the desk next to them.

Applying eyeliner (Ginny was a lot better at doing wings than Hermione would ever be) and blending dark maroon eyeshadow with some black and adding a layer of thick mascara, Ginny stands back and admires her work. Brushing through Hermione's thick hair, she pulls most of it back into a neat bun. Braiding the strands in the front that were left out, she ties them in with the rest of Hermione's hair.

"I actually made you even more attractive than usual. Someone is getting some tonight," she jokes. "Just a few more things…"

Ginny completes the outfit with a few long, skinny strands of gold used as a looping necklace, and thin, long black gloves that cover up her forearms. "Earrings?" Ginny asks herself, debating.

"I don't really have any," Hermione reminds her.

"I'll go get some. Plus a pair of shoes, because all you have are converse and boots."

"That's all I need," Hermione retorts, but Ginny is already halfway out the door.

"I'll be back in a few minutes! Don't do anything to mess up your makeup!"

Hermione sighs, glancing at herself in the mirror. The girl looking back was hardly recognizable. This one looked like she could have some self-confidence. Emerging from her room, Hermione walks over to the bookshelf to pick out something to read while Ginny is off looking for things. In the middle of her search, she hears Malfoy's door click open, and his heavy footsteps get louder as he enters the living room.

"Nice dress," he comments. She turns around to look at him. "Woah—nice face!" Coughing, he corrects himself, "I mean, um… you look really nice, Granger."

She chuckles. "Thanks. You don't look half bad yourself."

He glances down at himself, shrugging. "It's what I wear every day."

"You still look good in it," she insists, surprising both him and herself with her boldness.

"Where are you off to on your free night?" Malfoy asks, trying to draw attention away from the deep red blush forming on his face.

Hermione hesitates. "Um, I have a date…with Ronald."

"Oh," Draco clears his throat, scratching his neck. "Yeah, of course."

"Draco," Hermione practically whispers. He doesn't answer, and a part of her wonders if he didn't hear her. It was evident that he had. "I'm sorry about what happened…that morning."

"Don't worry about it, Granger. We were both tired. It didn't mean anything."

With that, he brushes past her, walking through the portrait hole and almost crashing into Ginny. They have yet another short, awkward encounter before Ginny steps into the common room. "Alright, I got these earrings and some high heels for you to borrow. I have to go; Ron is going to be here any minute. You have to give me all the details tomorrow!" Ginny sets the earrings and shoes on the side table, hugging Hermione carefully. "Have fun!"

Ginny leaves before Hermione can get a word out. She carefully puts in the long gold earrings, with the same gold strands hanging down from it, that her necklace is made of. Just as she puts on the delicate black high heels, there's a knock on the wall outside of the common room. Hermione glances at herself in the mirror before heading over to the portrait and opening it. Her boyfriend stands outside, waiting, with maroon and golden colored roses in his hands. When Ron sees her, he freezes. "Wow, you… you look beautiful, 'Mione."

"Thank you," she blushes. Ron holds out the flowers to her, and she takes them, setting them on the table near the portrait. Ron helps her step down into the corridor, and the portrait swings closed behind them. "Where are we going?"

"The room of requirement," he says, not elaborating. He holds his arm out to Hermione, who places her hand on it to keep her balance as they walk down a couple corridors. Soon, they reach the pillars, with fake vines carved into it. Ron paces in front of the door until it slides open, revealing a dim room with blood red walls and oak floorboards. A table with a thick white tablecloth laying over it is in the middle of the room. The only other thing in the large room that isn't a decoration, is the spiraling staircase in the corner of the room that leads elsewhere.

"It's beautiful," Hermione grins as he leads her over to one of the chairs. She sits down in one, and he takes his seat in the one across the table from her.

"I'm glad you like it."

With a wave of his wand, multiple plates of food appear on the table and the two of them dish up pasta, bread, and fill up their tall glasses with red wine. It only takes a half an hour for them to finish; granted, Ron ate most of it. They make casual conversation as the night rolls on, until there's nothing left to talk about.

"'Mione… I don't know how to say this," Ron begins, glancing nervously at her from across the table.

"Say what?"

"I…we've known each other for a while. Do you trust me?"

Hermione nods slowly. "Of course…"

"Then…" he pauses, gathering himself before quickly slurring out, "we should have sex."

"What?!" Hermione coughs, nearly choking on her wine. "Ronald…"

"You said it yourself! You trust me! What more is there to wait for?"

A part of her –the smarter part- answers his question. _Love_. But she couldn't possibly tell Ron that she didn't really love him. Not in the way he loved her. It would be even worse than just rejecting him. So, she said the only thing her slightly drunk mind could think up.

"You're right. Let's…let's have sex."


	11. 11- Impromptu Trip

**(a/n): Pretend the room of requirement has no restrictions because it makes for a better storyline xx**

Draco wasn't sure why he was so broken about the fact that Granger was going on a date with her boyfriend. They'd practically been dating since the first year, or at least that's what everyone assumed. Maybe he just hoped that something would change between them after their abrupt kiss the other day. Now, pacing the empty corridors alone, he realized how naïve he was.

What part of him thought that one kiss after years of bullying would make up for anything? His family and the man they had been loyal to tried to kill her and her friends. Draco knew they could never be together. She was forgiving, but he would need to spend the rest of his life making it all up to her. And for the first time, he felt like he would be okay with doing that for someone.

All the Head Boy wanted to do was head back out onto the quidditch pitch and practice. While he spent most of his evenings training with his team, the nights he had off felt empty and meaningless. How great would it be to have something else to make his life worthwhile?

What was the worst thing that could happen if he left the corridors unattended for a few minutes? Well… a lot of things could, but he was hoping none of them would be too bad. So he set off for the pitch after an hour of boring patrolling where he realized he went in a complete circle. Heading down a corridor of the seventh floor, his footsteps fill the empty space.

Draco suddenly stops short, straining his ears to hear a faint noise. It sounded like a song; one vaguely familiar. As he slowly stepped closer to the unknown source, he began to fill with a joyous feeling; one he would almost call 'love.' The blonde-haired wizard's interest abruptly increases as he realizes the song is _Something_ by The Beatles. Who else would play that, other than Granger?

He gazes at the wall he recognizes all too well. The door to the room of requirement. Draco begins to think of the first thing that pops into his head; Hermione. Pacing in front of the door three times, it slides open quietly to reveal a dark red, almost gothic room. Even with the solid rock wall out of the way, the record still seems distant. Taking another few steps into the large area, he notices a spiraling staircase in the corner.

A part of Draco was incredibly happy that he decided to go up the stairs. The other part was disgusted at what he laid his eyes on.

A significantly smaller room was connected to the staircase, with the same dark color scheme. The only thing in this one was a large bed, most likely a queen-size that took up the majority of the floor space. On top of it, half undressed, laid Granger with her Weasel boyfriend. The floorboard squeaked underneath his shiny black boots, and the couple looks over at him in shock.

"Merlin!" he swears, moving to cover his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Weasel yells at him.

"I don't… think you're in a position to be asking me questions."

"I'm in a position to have sex with my girlfriend."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, that's going to have to wait. I need Granger for something."

After another painfully awkward minute of fighting –Draco averting his eyes to the boring wall and away from the couple- Granger told him to wait downstairs, and came down a minute later. "What do you need me for?" she asks.

"Patrolling. I need to train."

She squints at him, not quite understanding, but continues to follow him out into the corridor.

"You were losing your virginity?" Draco suddenly asks, needing to know the answer.

She coughs awkwardly. "Is it really your place to know?"

"Yes. We kissed two days ago and you avoided me. I deserve _some_ answer."

Granger crosses her arms. "Okay, yes. I was about to lose my virginity, but that plan is ruined." She pauses, like she's debating on her next sentence. "I'm rather relieved."

Draco stops in his tracks for the second time that night, turning to look at Granger. She crashes into his chest, practically squeaking as she does so. He takes a step back, holding her hands in his. She gazes up, her beautiful, bright brown eyes wide as they look into his rather dull grey ones. "Listen to me, okay?" he asks, never breaking their intense eye contact.

"You don't need to do something you don't want to do. No matter what. If they try to push you toward it, or guilt you into it, they aren't worth it. Understood?" Draco knew he was being intense, but he hated to think about how Granger was more likely to put others' wishes before her own. He hated to think about how close the Weasel had been to getting her to completely give herself over to him, especially when she wasn't ready.

Weasel really _was_ a weasel.

"Understood," Granger speaks quietly, giving a small nod of her head.

Draco clears his throat. "Alright. Er—do you want to go with me?"

"Where?"

"Down to the pitch. I need to get out of here or I'll… Merlin, I don't know, but whatever it is won't be pretty." Draco runs a hand through his disheveled blonde hair. The stone walls on either side of him seemed to be growing closer by the second, causing his breath to grow shaky.

Granger appeared concerned as small beads of sweat formed on his forehead, even though he was only standing in one place. "Yeah, let's go."

Draco was surprised that she'd agreed so quickly, but he figured she probably just wanted to make sure he didn't faint on the way down. Even after everything, she looked out for him. He loved her.

The Heads walk down the corridor, Granger a few feet behind him due to the fact that he was practically running there. This one night off made him realize just how hooked on the sport he was; so much, in fact, that it was more than just a series of games. It helped him stay calm. It gave him something else to think about. Without it, the only thoughts swirling in his mind were dark and depressing. Draco didn't want to go back to that place again.

It took the pair nearly fifteen minutes to get down to the quidditch pitch without being seen. They both knew there would be consequences if they were caught, especially since it was after curfew now. Draco would have left Granger outside while he changed into his uniform, but he didn't want to leave her alone in the middle of the night. Practically pulling her into the Slytherin locker room, he told her to sit on the bench between the rows of lockers. "Stare if you want to. I wouldn't blame you," he smirks, and she rolls her eyes and turns her back to him.

Draco stripped down to his boxers, tugging on his tight pants and warm fitted long-sleeve shirt. He skipped out on the protective aspects of his uniform because he wasn't going to be using bludgers or even taking out the snitch.

When the muscular boy turned back to Granger, she was still facing away from him. As he walked over, he saw a deep blush on her face. "I'm done," he informed her.

"O-okay," she stutters out quietly. What Draco had failed to realize was that Granger was sitting in front of the mirror, and her eyes had never left his body.

He wondered if she was just nervous about breaking a school rule. That was probably it. The only reason she'd ever broken rules was when she was saving her best friends' lives. That was a pretty good excuse.

Draco grabbed his Nimbus from the equipment room, leading Granger back into the pitch. The stars, lightyears away, shone brightly above them. "Care for a ride?" he asks her.

She bites her lip, crossing her arms as the wind picks up around the pair. "I don't know… I don't like heights."

"You can hang on to me," he offers. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"…Promise?"

"I promise."

She gradually agrees, sitting sideways due to her dress, behind Draco. He feels her dainty arms wrap around him, nearly taking his breath away. He was alright, though, because after seeing Granger underneath the moonlight, Draco's breath was long gone.

When she was situated, Draco kicked off from the ground. She let out a small scream as they started out shaky, but became silent besides her short breathing as the castle they both called home became small in the horizon. The stars seemed to grow closer and the moon is bigger now than it was on the wet grass.

They fly away from the pitch, towards the sparkling lights of Hogsmeade. The cool air whips at his hair, pushing it down on his scalp. The only thing he could focus on was Granger's hands pressed against his muscular stomach, only a thin piece of fabric between their skin. Maybe it was good that Draco couldn't see her sitting behind him. He might start to love her even more, and do something stupid like kiss her again.

Draco tilted the broom down to fly nearer to the quiet town, close enough to see the people on the street. Granger grips him tighter. "I feel like I'm going to fall," she groans, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"Maybe then, you'd know how it feels," he says under his breath, looking back and admiring her. Raising his voice, loud enough to hear over the wind whipping past them, he says, "You won't. I think it feels more freeing than scary."

"You've been doing this for years. I flew once," she reasons. "Seven years ago."

"You'll get used to it."

Granger doesn't say anything after that. Maybe because of the fact that he was dipping down closer to the surface of the Earth, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. "Get ready to land," he warns, bending his knees and bracing for the impact. The two of them hit the ground with a loud _thud_, and they step off the broom. Draco takes it in his right hand, leading Granger down the cobblestone street.

"It's nearly midnight, Malfoy. We have to get back to school soon," Granger speaks up, rushing to keep up with his long strides. Draco stops in the middle of the town, near the circular gold fountain. The water colors rotate between the four houses' colors, streaks shooting from the center of it. The Head Boy sits against the two-foot wall keeping the water on the bottom of the fountain.

Granger stands at his feet. "What are we doing here?"

Honestly, he didn't know, himself. So, he said the only thing he could conjure up in his mind. The only thought he could put into words. "I just needed to get out. Away."

Granger nods in understanding, lowering herself down next to him. "Sometimes it feels . . . claustrophobic, mentally. Like there's no place to get away from anything there."

Draco glanced over at the pretty girl sitting beside him. Her eyes were sparkling in a different way, this time. They were filled with tears threatening to spill over and slide down her cheeks. And if they chose to, Draco would wipe them away for her.

The Head Boy couldn't tear his eyes from her own. They reflected the bright moonlight shining down on them. He saw flecks of beautiful gold among the dark brown. He could stare into them forever.

The stars were luminous and breathtaking, but Hermione Granger's eyes could dull them with no effort. And that was exactly what he told her in the next letter.


	12. 12- Hoping to Interrupt

Hermione wasn't sure what to do. She wouldn't be sure of what to do, even if she knew what she desired. Which, she didn't. So, taking full use of her magic, she set off down the dark corridor at two in the morning.

It had taken her the full weekend to remember this. Which was understandable for most people, especially because it had happened in her first year at Hogwarts. All she'd heard were Harry and Ron's stories. But suddenly, it hit her on Sunday evening at dinner, during a lull in the Gryffindor students' conversations.

Hermione owled Harry after dinner, asking him to come by her dorm when he had the chance. As soon as he arrived, knocking on the crumbling stone wall next to the portrait, she let him in.

"I need the location to the Mirror of Erised," she says instantly, skipping the small talk that was sure to start if she didn't get to the point.

It takes Harry a short moment to remember the object he had found back in first year; the mirror that had shown him with his parents. "What? Why?"

"I just…" Hermione debated on telling one of her best friends her problems. "I want to figure out _what_ I want. And maybe the mirror can tell me."

He nods, not pushing her further. Giving her the number of the empty classroom he'd last seen it in, he wished her luck and left.

Which brought her here, to the empty classroom previously used for Dark Arts, at two in the morning. She stared down at the rusty doorknob, scared to open it. Scared to see what she really wanted. Scared that the enchanted mirror wouldn't even know what she wanted.

Slowly, Hermione twists the golden knob and the wooden door creaks open, echoing throughout the empty corridor. Inside is a row of desks on either side of the doorway, dust coating the surface of each. In the front of the room where the professor's desk would be, is the mirror. Bordered with gold, the streaked mirror stands prominent in the plain room.

Hermione approaches the mirror, not stopping until she is a mere foot away from the cracked glass. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, awaiting some motion besides her chest moving as she breathes heavily. In the dark background, something shifted. Hermione completely forgot about it as a messy blonde head of hair came into view behind her. It absorbs the moonlight streaming through the remnants of the shattered window.

She watches the mirror cautiously as her fellow Head slowly nears her. Hermione continues to stare when he stops inches away, and she holds her breath to see if anything else will happen to guide her to what she desires. Did she want to fix the unsteady relationship between them? Become friends? _More_?

"What the hell are you doing, Granger?"

Hermione jumps at the sudden noise. The mirror could not make sounds; she knew that. Whipping around, she sees Malfoy's bare, muscular chest level with her eyes. She tilts her head up to look him in the eye. "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first," he rebuts.

"Er…I needed a mirror," she lies pathetically.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Across the castle, in a dusty old classroom? At two-thirty in the morning? Yeah, seems practical."

Hermione groans internally, knowing he wouldn't drop it. "I was looking for the Mirror of Erised."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but that's not your mirror. After the war here, I doubt it's even intact anymore. If you want to know what you desire so much, maybe you should just listen to your instincts."

Hermione raises her eyebrow. "Is that a less cliché way of saying 'follow your heart'?"

"You know me so well," Malfoy deadpans. "Go back to bed, or I'll have to write you up."

"Sure," Hermione nods, rolling her eyes as the Head Boy turns to leave. "Wait—you never told me why _you_ were here."

Malfoy faces her again, this time from the other side of the classroom. "I was hoping to interrupt another attempt at a shag session with Weasel."

* * *

"Excuse me, Headmistress?" Hermione raises her voice as she enters the large office.

McGonagall emerges from a branch-off room. "Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure? Something good, I hope." She sits behind her desk, motioning for Hermione to sit across from her.

Hermione does so, placing her hands in her lap. "I was hoping you'd know the location of a magical object that was kept here at Hogwarts years ago." The headmistress nods for her to continue. "The Mirror of Erised. Harry had found it back in our first year…I was hoping it was still intact."

McGonagall listens, staring down at her desk as she absorbs the request. "There's a decoy in its old location, but I'm sure that won't help." She takes another moment to think. "Before the war, we stored everything in Gringotts bank, in one of our top secret vaults…. If you would really like to get this mirror, I suppose… I could give you the key to the vault. Although I need something from the vault myself…."

"Is it anything I could retrieve for you, Headmistress? I assume that you're very busy."

McGonagall nods. "Yes, I need the cases of Pensieve memories. There are multiple fragile cases of them stored in the same vault. The issue is that I need them by tomorrow morning, for the potions teacher. I shall send a carriage for the cases tonight, and the two of you can fly to the bank and back."

"Um—sorry, 'two of you'?"

"Oh, yes!" McGonagall looks back up at Hermione. "You and Mister Malfoy will go. I can only trust my best students, and that's what the two of you are." She pauses again. "And you might need some help loading all of the cases."

So Hermione returned to her fourth class of the day, Arithmancy. It was one of her favorites, but she could hardly focus, thinking about being out in Hogsmeade with Malfoy again. Thinking about what the mirror might show her when she finally stood in front of it. Thinking about whether or not she would listen to it when the time came.

* * *

"I don't see why I have to bloody go," Malfoy complains. "And with McGonagall's permission, why do we have to go so late?"

Hermione groans in exasperation, pausing her packing to look over at him. "We're supposed to help the Headmistress get cases of Pensieve memories, and I'm _not_ going to Gringotts alone . . . again," she adds, remembering when she'd had to go there as Malfoy's own aunt, Bellatrix. "It was either miss dinner and go when everyone was busy eating, or go after curfew. But with the stunt you pulled last week, Ginny's still got me on a strict eating schedule. So, after curfew it is."

He doesn't argue with her, and she turns triumphantly back to her bag, deciding she was prepared enough. Really, they'd only be gone for two hours if all went well. Maybe three. Hermione suddenly remembered that she and Malfoy would have to fly there, and she scrapped the idea of bringing a bag. Deciding to just add the key onto the chain of her necklace, she was ready to go.

Instead of wearing his quidditch uniform, he dressed in a thin white t-shirt that clung to his muscular body. As they headed down empty corridors towards the pitch where Malfoy's Nimbus is kept, Hermione grows increasingly excited about getting to 'casually' wrap her arms around him in a matter of minutes. As soon as his broom was hovering a few feet off the ground, the pair mounts it, Malfoy in front.

The t-shirt ended up bunched at his chest, the wind pushing the fabric away from his stomach. Hermione took the opportunity to place her cold fingers on his warm skin, pretending to still be terrified of falling. While it was scary the first time, she'd been through worse.

The ride only lasts a few minutes before they're dipping down, bracing for impact on the cobblestone road. On a Monday night, no one is around this late. The headmistress made special arrangements with the owners of Gringotts, regarding the two Heads going to Hogwarts' vault after closing time.

Malfoy holds the tall door open for Hermone, who thanks him and leads the way past dozens of the goblin employees. Each of them look up at the pair with annoyed, disapproving eyes. Hermione only stops at the largest desk in the room; the one at the very end, facing the doorway.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts. I believe Headmistress McGonagall has owled you about our business here?"

The goblin says nothing, only rising from his desk and holding out his hand. Hermione unhooks the vault key from her necklace and places it on his palm.

The short goblin ducks behind the desk, emerging on the ground in front of the pair. They are led to one of the mine carts underground. The goblin stands at the front of it, leaving a small space for Hermione and Malfoy. Once they're in the cart, Hermione is practically sitting in Malfoy's lap. Not that she's complaining.

The cart lurches into motion, squeaking against the unstable metal rails. As it twists around sharp corners, Hermione is thrown on Malfoy, her hands gripping his wrists to assure that she won't be flung out into the dark abyss of unsupported metal railways. She feels Malfoy's arms wrap tightly around her waist, her back pressed to his chest as she clings to his wrists for dear life.

After a good thirty seconds of stomach-lurching twists, turns, and loops, the cart stops abruptly. Malfoy cleared his throat and unwound his arms from around Hermione. She stands up dizzily, holding the edge of the cart for a moment. Malfoy follows her out onto the stone platform. When she turns to him, she notes that he looks a little green. Almost on cue, Malfoy places a hand on the rocky wall, leaning over the edge and hurling. _Maybe we should have just skipped dinner and went,_ Hermione thinks to herself.

Seconds later, he turns back to Hermione and the goblin, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. She cringes, patting his shoulder as the goblin rolls his eyes and starts down the corridor, essentially a large hole drilled into the rock. The only source of light is from the occasional torch, burning white and orange, casting eerie shadows on every wall as the duo, led by the goblin, walk down the stuffy corridor. Hermione finds herself drifting closer to Malfoy with every turn.

"You're in quidditch," Hermione says to him quietly. "You're used to twisting and being upside down. Why did you throw up?"

Malfoy stares at the wall next to him, face burning red. "I can't control that bloody cart."

"Poor you," Hermione fake pouts. Malfoy rolls his eyes.

"Thanks for the sympathy, Granger."

"Anytime, Malfoy."

As Hermione's heels start to hurt from the past few minutes of walking, the goblin stops. A large vault with multiple locks stands prominent in the wall. The goblin inputs passcodes, taps on certain parts of the wall with a certain rhythm, and finally, uses the key Hermione was given. The vault swings open, the metal door hitting the stone wall behind it with a loud_ clatter_ that echoed through the corridor.

Inside is a room bigger than any vault she'd seen before. Bigger than the Great Hall. Bigger than an entire wing of the school. It held every important artifact that Dumbledore and Hogwarts had acquired, so of course it had to be giant.

In the front was the section with multiple silvery-white crates. Each one had 'Pensieve Memories' written on the top in neat cursive. Hermione and Malfoy take two boxes at a time, walking back down the long corridor to the cart before loading it. The goblin would then take it back up to the carriage and stack them inside of it, before returning in the cart. Hermione just hoped that none of the memories shattered. Surely the cunning goblin had his ways.

The long trips back and forth made for at least two hours of work ahead of them. After an hour, the both of them were exhausted and sat against the wall halfway back to the vault. Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Granger, don't fall asleep and leave me with all this work," he warns, running a hand through his hair, damp with sweat. She just groans, shaking her head and keeping her eyes closed. Malfoy lifts her head up, standing and offering his hands to her. She takes them, climbing back onto her feet. "You go find the mirror. I'll do a trip and when I come back, you can join me again."

Hermione nods, agreeing to his suggestion. He reaches behind him, tugging his shirt over his head by the back of his collar. His muscles glisten with sweat, something she'd never thought she'd find so attractive. Malfoy sets off again before she can spend much longer staring at him.

In the middle of the room, surrounded by stacks of various boxes, she finds the mirror. The real one. It has no cracks or scratches; the only thing that ages it is the dust covering parts of it. Along the top, carved into the gold, is _Mirror of Erised_.

**(A/N): Please leave a review if you enjoyed this or have any feedback! I wrote the majority of this while I should have been writing an essay for one of my classes, but this is by far more fun.**


	13. 13- Comfort

Hermione physically feels her heart sink when she spots Malfoy in the background. It had taken a full minute for anything to happen, but she had refused to give up. At the sight of the same blonde hair, she sighed and turned around.

"You're back alr-"

She saw the familiar cardboard boxes behind her—and nothing else. No blonde hair, no bare, sweaty chest, no grey eyes staring at her. Nothing. No one.

Hermione turns back to the mirror, jumping as she sees Malfoy standing behind her again. The same way he was this morning. However, she saw herself move in the mirror, even when she was actually standing completely still, shocked. She watched herself turn her head, looking over her shoulder at Malfoy. He put his hands on her waist, moving his head to the side of her body to kiss her sweetly. Slowly, they turn, the sides of their faces on display on the other side of the mirror.

He grabs her chin carefully, tilting it upwards to give him perfect access to her lips. Their bodies pressed together, chest against chest. She watched as Malfoy's kisses moved down her jaw to her neck, making her tilt her head back.

And as Malfoy pulled back, placing one last peck on her lips, he smiled. Hermione could read his lips perfectly as he mouths, "_I love you_."

And while the scene brought forward confused, terrified feelings at the fact that Hermione was so ready to get into a relationship with her bully and enemy of seven years, there was another feeling present. One she couldn't exactly place her finger on. She wanted Draco Malfoy to love her, more than she wanted anything else. And she couldn't even decide if it was true or not.

* * *

Granger was avoiding him again. On this occasion, she was being more subtle than before. Or maybe he just thought she was, because this time he hadn't done anything to her, and he wasn't sure if she was actually avoiding him or if he was just being paranoid. But when she didn't even glance towards the back of the room in potions for the entire week, he knew he was right.

Quidditch reminded him of her. He'd been playing the sport for almost ten years; since before he'd even attended Hogwarts. Yet, after taking her on rides four times, the entire game was ruined for him. At least it was for now. All he could think of when he sat in the dark was what would happen if she was there next to him. Granger would bring out the truth in him without trying. He would tell her things he'd never dream of telling Blaise, his best friend.

So instead of going out to the pitch on Friday night, Draco found himself sitting alone in his room, reading the same three paragraphs in his transfiguration textbook without really knowing what he'd just skimmed through.

The portrait door opening and closing brought his attention to the common room. Through his closed door, he could only hear muffled voices, not able to make either of them out although he was sure one of the people was Granger. Tiptoeing to his door, he twisted the knob and cracked it open, careful to not make a sound while doing so. He saw a flash of red hair on a tall boy, and figured she had brought Weasel to their common room. At the sign of any clothes about to be shed, Draco would be out there casually breaking them up again.

But the thought is out of his mind as he hears Granger speak. "Thanks for coming, Ronald. I need to talk to you."

No sexual innuendos or suggestive tones there, Draco notes.

"Promising," the red-head grumbles.

He hears her sigh loudly, and drop down onto the couch near Weasel. "We're best friends. We have been for several years. But since we started unofficially dating, we've grown further apart," Granger explains.

Was she about to break up with him? It sounds a lot like a breakup speech.

"That's not fair!" he defends. "You've grown apart from Harry, too. You can't pin this all on me."

"I'm not. I understand that we both have grown busy, but the fact _is_ that I'm closer to Harry and Ginny than I am to you. I feel like I've lost my best friend. I can't talk to you about anything anymore. The passion is gone."

"Of course it's a fact! Everything is _facts_ with you, Hermione. Why can't it be what you feel? Why can't you let your heart lead you?"

"I am," she says quietly.

"That's not true."

"It really is, Ronald. I don't feel the way I used to around you."

Weasel begins raising his voice at her. "So what? We just throw everything away because you're having _a few_ doubts about us? Do you even remember what we went through last year? We can overcome anything together, 'Mione."

"I don't want to fight for the rest of my life. Sometimes we need to take a break from it."

"So we're on a break?" Weasel asks, his voice wavering.

"Yes."

Draco hears the couch squeak, indicating that someone had just stood up. "I'm not accepting that," he says simply, like he has a choice in the matter.

"You have to."

"I won't. I can't. We've been through too much to go on a bloody break. What is this really about, Hermione? _Who_?"

Granger stays calm, standing up to face him. "I've already stated my reasons, and I don't believe I owe you much more of an explanation. Now you need to leave."

"I'm not leaving," he says through his teeth.

Draco doesn't even think about it, or of the consequences. Only a second later, he's joined the pair in the common room, his chest pushed out, arms crossed. "Get out of our dorm, Weasel, or I'll have to make you."

Granger seems surprised that Draco is there, most likely assuming he would be out at the pitch tonight. Weasel, however acts as if this was some big hint. "You're breaking up with me for him, aren't you?!" he yells at Granger as he stabs his finger at Draco's shoulder. "You bloody sl-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Draco's hand was wrapped around Weasel's weak finger, bending it backwards until it was pointing back at him. The red-headed boy shrieks, trying to pull away. Grabbing his collar, Draco faces the boy only inches from his face.

"Get out."

Dropping him back to the floor, there's a red blur as Weasel rushes to the portrait, swinging it open and closed as fast as possible. Draco only laughs at his reaction, rolling his eyes at the wimp that was already long gone.

"How much did you hear?" Granger asks, interrupting his moment.

He shrugs. "Enough." Even though he'd heard all of it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you were here," she apologizes, looking down at the ground.

"Are you alright?" he asks, earning only a shrug from her. "Do you want to talk about anything?" After getting no response, Draco scratched the back of his neck, glancing around at the walls. "I mean, you don't have to, b-"

He hears a small hiccup, followed by a sniffle, alerting him to the fact that Granger is starting to sob. Her shoulders shake with every breath. "Hey, hey, it's…it'll be okay," he says unconvincingly. Surely a dim-minded human would not believe his statement with that tone, let alone a brilliant witch.

Not trusting his voice to make matters much better, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. She sobbed into his shirt, leaving black makeup and small wet patches in the white fabric, but he could not care less about the stains at that point. His large hands run up and down her back, still holding her against him as she sobs, her frail arms around his waist.

Draco takes a few deep breaths, trying to gather himself enough to say something; anything. "It _will_ get better," he tells her, knowing this statement to be true. "Sometimes things are just a bit vile for…for a while."

Granger has an out-of-place laugh mixed in with her cries due to his accidental rhyming. He smiles triumphantly, able to make her laugh while she was sad.

"Draco," she whispers a minute later, when her sobs are down to small cries every so often. Her head is still buried against his chest.

"Yes?" he asks, caught off guard by the fact that she called him by his first name, and not his last.

"Would it be completely mental if I said that I didn't want to sleep alone tonight?"

"No, that's a normal thing to say," Draco attempts to joke. Granger only sighs. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's not mental. We're friends now."

"Friends?" she asks, lifting her chin up to look into his eyes.

"Yeah, friends. I think we've earned it."

Granger doesn't say anything after that, so Draco lets go of her, taking her hand and leading her to his room. While she'd been past it multiple times, this was her first time actually _seeing_ it. He gave her a moment to adjust to the darker colors throughout the room. The only comment she offers is "Emerald green is actually _very_ pretty."

Draco chuckles and thanks her, sitting on his bed on the inside, against the wall. He pats the thick comforter, motioning her towards him. She sits on top of the covers, against the pillows, and stares at him. "Do you want to talk about anything?" Draco repeats his question from earlier.

"I just need to rant."

"I'll listen, if you're okay with that."

"Of course," Granger nods. "You know about the fight with all three of them. Ginny accused me of being the reason we were all growing apart. We're all busy, though. She knows I already blame everything on myself, without her telling me.

"Ron and I have nothing between us. I felt like I was pretending when I was around him. I couldn't be smart; I had to be a girl in love—sickening love, at that. I was making _myself_ want to throw up. That was the best thing to do, right? I couldn't lead him on, and act as if I still loved him like that."

Granger looks at Draco for an answer. "It's better this way, even if he doesn't realize it yet," he agrees with her.

"Right. And he never really cared about me much. He didn't show it. When I stopped eating, he saw it as a blessing because he got to eat my food whenever we were at meals together. When he noticed my scars, he just looked the other way. I appreciate it when strangers see them, but my own boyfriend didn't care enough to even acknowledge it."

Draco interrupts her. "Scars?"

Her face goes pale, her bottom lip between her teeth. "Er…"

"Pull your sleeves up, Hermione," Draco whispers just loud enough for her to hear. She continues to sit there, unmoving. "Please pull them up," he begs, willing the tears not to fall in front of her. He refused to think of this beautiful bright witch hurting herself.

She still doesn't pull up her sleeves, but offers her arms out, wrists facing the ceiling. Draco cautiously pushes the fabric up her arms, not daring to look until they're both past her forearms. On her left arm were multiple cuts, many of them deep in her veins. Some of them were vertical, like she was attempting to do damage no one could fix.

After that, Draco thought his heart was broken for her. But when he gazed over at her right arm, he realized that these scars were all his fault. New red cuts traced over her scar, given to her by his aunt as he had stood idly by, brainwashed. The angry letters were present in front of his eyes, and he could still see them as his eyelids squeezed shut in an attempt to stop crying. She still saw herself as a mudblood, and it was his fault that those scars would be there forever. He really hated himself.

Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers as the pads of his thumbs traced carefully over her scars. It only took her a second to get over her shock, and she kissed him back as they both continued to cry. There was no passion between the kiss; only comfort and the love Draco was fighting against confessing to her.

"You'll never be alone, Hermione," he promises her, pressing his lips back to hers gently.

**(a/n): I got a few more reviews last chapter which makes my day ^-^ continue doing that, it motivates me xD and the more motivated I am, the sooner Dramione will happen. ;)**


	14. 14- We'll Be Alright

Draco woke up the way he'd never think he could wake up. Happy, as he stared at the girl he loves. Granger was facing him, her head tucked against his chest, arms wrapped around each other. Draco could remember multiple points that night where he'd woken up and had this same feeling. Granger was crying the first few times, and he would lift her chin up and kiss her again. And this is the way he wanted to wake up every day. Now that he knew what it was like, she had to be his.

As his alarm woke the both of them up at 6 in the morning –truthfully, he only ever got up that early in order to see Granger before she left for breakfast and class– he was greeted with a rush of relief. It was Saturday, and breakfast wouldn't be for another two hours.

He reached over Granger's stirring body to shut off the alarm. When he lays back down, her eyes are on him. "Good morning," he whispers, his raspy morning voice making an appearance.

She didn't say anything for a moment, biting her lip. "I'm sorry about last night."

Draco was filled with dread. She was regretting telling him everything. She was regretting kissing him all those times. She regretted him. And of course he could never really have her; she was not a possession, and she would never give herself over to anyone, let alone her bully.

"Is this the part where you leave me?" he asks, almost in a whisper.

If she hadn't given him the look she was, he might think she hadn't heard him. Granger stared with wide eyes, like she was shocked that he said such a thing. Like it wasn't a likely possibility.

"I shouldn't be with you. I just broke up with my best friend, and you're . . . you."

"I'm me," Draco repeats absentmindedly.

She was right. He was him. And she was her. She spent ages fighting against people like Draco; hell, she fought against him a few times. Why would she spend another second in his presence? She had finally cured the wizarding world of the dark side, and he was the quintessence of the dark side; the perfect example. But she . . . she represented light and hope, something he could never honestly have.

"You know what I mean," she cuts in.

"Yeah, I do," he snaps, untangling his arms from around her in a rushed manor. Like he couldn't stand to touch her for another moment, when really it was the opposite. But he knew he couldn't touch her anymore, and the longer he waited to stop, the harder it would be. And somewhere within the process of falling in love with Hermione Granger, he'd stopped needing to touch her in a sexual way. Of course that would be great, but all he needed was the feel of her skin against his. Loving Granger made him incredibly lame.

She doesn't shy away from him though. He feels her hand grip his bicep, tugging on it and making him look back at her, propped against the pillows. "We're not supposed to be friends. We were never meant to be friends."

"I get it," he says through his teeth as she continues to break his heart.

"But you're not evil. You're really not."

"I've got scars to prove that I am."

"Show me."

Draco glances back at her, but she doesn't waver. He tugs his shirt sleeve up, exposing the mark he'd hidden from everyone for so long. The one that differentiated himself from the majority of his peers. The one that only a few Slytherins had. The one that marked him as the ultimate evil in this world.

Granger's fingertips ran over his skin, and he flinched.

"Does it still hurt?" she asks innocently.

He shakes his head. "No, it's just . . . weird for someone to see it. And touch it."

She nods in understanding, pulling her hand away from it.

"Draco," she says quietly, begging him to look at her with that one simple tone. He does just that, meeting her puffy red eyes. And he continued to listen to her say something that he would most definitely remember forever.

"Our scars do not define us. They are reminders of our past, not indications of our future."

She proceeded to pull her right sleeve up again, and put her wrist right next to his. The red letters reading 'Mudblood' and the black and green death mark tattoo stand side by side, uniting the unlikely pair as their worst memories remain scarred into their skin.

"We'll be alright," she tells him, gazing at their wrists.

"We'll be alright," he repeats.

* * *

Draco and Granger got dressed an hour and a half later, unfortunately in separate rooms. They met in the common room just before eight, ready to head down to breakfast. Granger approached him, standing on her toes and pressing her lips to his in a casual kiss, although Draco was surprised that she'd done such a thing after practically admitting that she regretted it.

The kiss was over before he could respond to it, and she doesn't acknowledge it. "You can go first, and I'll wait a minute so it doesn't look like we're together."

Draco quirks an eyebrow at her. "Who cares if we're together?"

"I figured you would. And Ron might not like it too much, either."

"You're really going to sit with him today? You just broke up."

Granger shrugs. "It's not like I have much of an option, do I?"

Draco wished she could just sit with him, but that probably wouldn't go too well. Maybe he could suggest house-wide seating as another attempt at bringing the four houses together. He doubted that would work out well with the other students, though.

The two of them decided to just walk down together. It was only eight on a Saturday morning, so most of their friends might not be at the Great Hall yet. Only a few lonely souls sat at the table, all of them sitting far apart. Draco noted that most of them seemed to be reading, and he took the rare opportunity of no public attention to kiss Granger, turning away immediately after to go to his table. Luckily, none of his friends were there, which was to be expected, so he pulled out his transfiguration textbook and decided to give reading it another go.

Meanwhile, Hermione walks to the middle of the Gryffindor table, stopping as she sees the familiar jet-black hair and matching round glasses framing his face. "Can I sit here?" she asks, standing in front of the seat across from Harry.

He looks up from his parchment, nodding and setting down his quill. "I heard you and Ron broke it off. That's really . . . too bad."

"You don't have to lie," Hermione chuckles as she sits down on the bench across from him.

"I love you both, but neither of you were the same when you were together. Although I'm really dreading the awkward situations to come," he admits.

"He just needs some time to adjust, and come to terms with it. It was for the best; we all know it deep down."

"Let's hope so. Last night, all he did was talk about how he swears you and Malfoy are together. Just because he punched him; the bloke would take any opportunity to punch any of us, especially if we were making a racket in his dorm."

"That's mental," Hermione laughs, more at the fact that Malfoy had just kissed her a minute ago, only a few feet from where both of them now sat. She kept looking over Harry's shoulder, catching Malfoy's eye, who would wink at her every so often when he looked up from his textbook.

"Of course now that you aren't dating her brother, Ginny is trying to get me to place a bet on when you two will shag."

Hermione giggles nervously this time, taking a drink of her pumpkin juice to calm herself. "Er, yeah, it never happened with Ron, so it won't happen with Malfoy. Don't place a bet."

"Good call," he agrees. "She just swears there's some weird energy between you two. It's odd."

"Yeah. Where is she, anyways?"

"Still sleeping, I guess. We had a late night, but I had to start my essay," he explains, pointing down at the parchment in front of him.

"'Late night?'" she asks, smirking.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yes, late night. I've shagged your best friend a few times, Hermione."

"Eleven and a half," she adds.

"What?"

"You've shagged eleven and a half times. The half is when you got too excited that 'first time.'"

Harry groans, putting his head in his hands. "Great, she told you. Everything."

"Of course she did. But you've gotten better, so don't worry. By the way, she likes that thing you do with your thumb and middle finger."

"I knew it!" he grins triumphantly. "It's interesting to see Hermione Granger so open about sex."

She shrugs. "Ginny is rubbing off on me."

"I'd pay to see that…"

"Harry James Potter!" she yells. "You're lucky I'm not on your side of the table, or I'd smack you in the back of the head."

He holds up his hands in surrender. "In all honesty, it's really great to see you again. We've all been growing apart this year, and it's no one's fault, but after spending day after day with you last year, it's strange."

Hermione nods in understanding. "That was the only time we've spent together without Ron or Ginny. It wasn't the best of times, but at least we had each other."

"This is the easy part. We've got an uninterrupted schoolyear ahead of us. It's only the beginning of October."

"We should do this breakfast thing more often. I like our chats," Hermione smiles.

"Agreed."

* * *

That Monday was possibly one of Hermione's favorite potions lessons. The Pensieve memories had been pushed back another week, because Slughorn had to organize the lesson. Finally, they were ready. Hermione arrived thirty minutes early, anxiously waiting for the clock to hit eight.

Malfoy sat in Ginny's usual seat until she walked through the door. He leans forward, his mouth near her ear, and whispers, "I'd kiss you again, but I don't think your friend would react very kindly."

Ginny gives them a sideways glance as he walks to his desk in the back, but doesn't question it as she sets her book bag down on the table. The two of them discuss their weekend –Hermione, of course, leaving out the good parts where she and Malfoy had slept in his bed together and kissed multiple times– as they waited for class to start.

When Slughorn walked into the room, the class directed their attention to him and the familiar silvery white cases on his desk. "Today, I will be teaching you how to transfer a memory to a Pensieve vial. This is a fairly easy process, yet you will need to be able to do it accurately."

He goes through the basics; the spell, and how to make sure you have the right memory. Then, how to make sure there are no gaps in the memory, or that it doesn't end too early or too late. How to perfect it.

With the remaining time, the class transferred memories into the vials. And while she was terrified of anyone ever seeing it, Hermione could only think of her multiple kisses with Malfoy, and their short discussions. And, by the looks she shared with the blonde boy himself, she could tell he was creating the same memory.

* * *

**(a/n): I hope you liked this chapter ^.^ the end was more of a filler, but there are some good plans for this to come. Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter, but I wrote it within two hours while I should have been sleeping, and now I'm exhausted, just in time to go to classes! XD**** Many of you reviewed last chapter, which is awesome! It makes me so happy to read your thoughts, so please continue to do that!**


	15. 15- Doubt

On Tuesday morning, a loud tapping at Draco's window woke him up. He looked down at Hermione, who was still sleeping peacefully in his arms. Glancing at the clock, the bright red numbers told him that it was only five in the morning.

Careful not to make too much noise, Draco unhooked his arms from around the beautiful girl sleeping in his bed, and trudged over to the window, opening it. A familiar owl lands on his dresser, a piece of parchment tied around its leg with a short red ribbon. Grabbing some owl food out of the box, he gives it to the bird and unties the ribbon.

The owl away as Draco unrolls the parchment. _Meet me in the potions room in ten minutes; Blaise._

He wondered what Blaise could possibly need this early in the morning as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. No one else would be up at this hour; not even Granger. Before he snuck out with his wand in hand, he tapped Hermione a couple times, until she rolled over to look up at him. "What time is it?" she asks.

"Don't worry, you have time to sleep. I have to go somewhere, but I'll come back soon to get changed for classes."

"Mmmkay," she mumbles. When Draco turns, she stops him, tugging on his shirt. "Kiss?"

He chuckles and leans down, his hand on her pillow to keep his balance as he pecks her lips. She grins and turns back over, her soft snores returning seconds later. Draco grins, slipping out of his room and into the cold, dark corridor. He crosses the castle, finally ending up in Slughorn's room. Luckily potions wasn't in the dungeons anymore, or he would be freezing at this moment.

The door is shut, but dim light comes from underneath the door. He twists the knob, pushing it open and entering the poorly lit room. "What the bloody hell is going on, Zabini?" Draco asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Smell this potion. Now."

He looks over at his friend, stirring a small cauldron. And honestly, Blaise looked a bit mental. "What is it?" Draco questions.

"Smell it."

"Is this a prank?" he asks as he walks over to the opposite side of the desk. "Is it going to smell like hippogriff shite?"

Blaise actually laughs. "No. it'll smell fine. Just tell me what it smells like to you."

Draco takes a careful, quick wif before deeply inhaling the beautiful scent. He tries his best to identify each aspect. "The library, butterscotch . . . and autumn."

"Autumn?"

Draco shrugs. "Yeah, autumn. The season. There's no other way to describe it."

Blaise nods. "Yeah. And can you think of anyone who smells like that?" Draco shrugs once again, causing Blaise to sigh in exasperation. "Just sleep on it."

"I will," Draco agrees, "if you'll let me sleep."

"Fine. Go back to bed. Let me know if you figure it out before class starts."

Draco is too tired to question Blaise. The sooner he gets back to his dorm, the sooner he can sleep in his bed with Hermione again. Right now, his thoughts were a blur, his mind still cloudy from waking up a few minutes ago. He practically runs across the castle, arriving back there are five-thirty in the morning with two hours to sleep, if he could convince Hermione to sleep in late with him. Of course, that would mean he was encouraging her to skip a meal. Maybe an hour and a half.

Entering his room, he got in on the outer side of the bed, Hermione between him and the wall. When he wrapped his arms around her again, she hummed in her sleep, moving into his chest.

Draco knew they weren't together deep down. They were hardly friends. Maybe she assumed they were friends with kissing benefits. As long as he got to be this close to her, he didn't care what status they had between them. He'd never been happier, despite the things that had brought them together. Getting to kiss that beautiful girl made his heart skip beats.

* * *

Four days of her weird relationship with Draco had gone by. It was a great relationship, but it was completely weird. They didn't talk much outside of their dorms. Neither of them had yet questioned what they were doing. She knew they weren't dating. This was Draco Malfoy, every girl's wet dream. Hermione knew she had to tell someone. She wasn't talking to Ron, plus they'd broken up four days ago, so he was an easy no. There was Ginny, but she had a habit of overreacting to news such as this. The only friend who would keep a fairly level head if she were to tell them was Harry. When the war had been taken to Hogwarts last year, he'd saved Draco. She knew that their hatred towards each other had lessened.

Tuesday night at the beginning of dinner, she rushed to the Gryffindor table. Harry was sitting there alone, waiting for his friends. Hermione sat down on the bench across from him. "Can you meet me in the back of the library tonight, an hour before curfew? Alone."

"I'm flattered, but I'm dating Ginny."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "It's important. See you then."

With that, she stood back up, leaving the Great Hall and a very confused Harry behind. She knew he would manage that simple set of instructions. The next three hours felt excruciatingly long as she finished a short essay that should have taken _half_ of an hour. Just as Draco entered the common room, the clock hit eight-fifty. Hermione had to go meet Harry.

"Hermione," he breathes, sounding relieved. "I'm glad you're here."

"What's wrong?" she questions.

His shoulders slump as he shakes his head. "Bad day."

Hermione bites her lip. "Sorry to hear that. I, uh, have to go meet Harry right now. I'll be back before curfew, I promise."

She can tell that the blonde boy in front of her is disappointed, but he just mutters "Yeah, sure" under his breath and slinks off to his room, shutting the door behind him. Hermione sighs, knowing she can't do much to make him feel better right now, so she sets off into the corridor, headed towards the familiar library.

Harry only arrives five minutes late, impressive to Hermione, since it was usually at least ten minutes. He sits across from her, folding his arms on the table. "I only have ten minutes, I told Ginny I was going to make sure I locked up my Nimbus."

"Interesting lie," Hermione comments.

He shrugs. "Yeah, well, I'm fairly sure I did _not_ lock it up, so I might be sacrificing my broom for you."

"I appreciate it," she laughs.

"Sure. Now what's so important?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure how to begin. She knew she shouldn't just jump right in and tell him, yet she didn't know what else to say. "Remember when you saved Malfoy at the end of the war last year?"

". . . Yes . . . ?"

"Right, so . . . even after everything, you must not hate him," she says, saying it like a question.

"There's a pretty fine line between hating someone and wanting them to die. Malfoy, however, is not on the worse side. So yes, I helped him out a bit."

Hermione chuckles nervously. "Riiight . . . So, er . . . You know what else there is a fine line between? Love and hate. It, er, just so happens that Dra- Malfoy is not on the bad side of that, either."

Harry pauses, speculating her facial expression for a few moments. "You . . . love . . . Malfoy?"

"Maybe _love_ isn't the right word," she giggles awkwardly. "Er, maybe we could use the word for casual friends who sometimes kiss and sleep together in a totally innocent way."

Her black-haired friend's eyes widen with surprise. "Wow, alright, I did not see that one coming."

"To be fair, I didn't either."

"So you're an item?"

Hermione shakes her head. "No, we're . . . we're hardly friends. It all happened so quickly."

Harry gives her a sympathetic look that she doesn't understand. After seeing the confusion on her face, he squints at her. "Hermione . . . you know what's happening, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know Draco Malfoy. You might think you know his true self now, but you don't. You know the ploy he uses to attract girls. If any of them knew how horrid he really was, he wouldn't have girls flaunting around him all the time. He tricked you into thinking that he was a good person deep down, and that he could change. He used the same scheme on you that he uses with every other girl he's hooked up with."

"We haven't done anything sexual!" she whisper-yells.

"It doesn't matter. It's going to happen, and he'll lose interest once he gets what he wants. Hermione, please, stay away from him. I don't want you to get hurt again."

Hermione felt everything begin to connect. Of course. Of course he was using her. She actually believed he had genuine feelings for her? She wasn't as smart as she previously thought.

"You're right," she nods. "Don't tell anyone else about this. I'll put an end to everything, starting now."

"Promise?"

"Promise." She locks eyes with Harry, giving a swift nod of her head. He offers her a smile, standing and walking around the table to hug her before heading back to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione casually made her way back to her own, not very eager to be alone with Malfoy.

After stepping through the portrait hole, she practically ran to her room, across the hall from Draco's, and shut her door behind her, locking it. Not even a minute later, she heard Malfoy's door squeak open, followed shortly after by a quiet knock on her door.

Taking a deep breath in and out to gather herself, she twisted the lock and opened the door a few inches, only enough to see his face but not enough to allow her to leave or him to come in. "Yes?"

"I was hoping we could make out," he winks teasingly, leaning up against her door frame. "My bed is too big without you in it."

"Funny, because mine is exactly the right size with me alone. Maybe you should suggest a twin, instead of a queen size."

His eyebrows furrow together. "Is that a no?"

"You aren't used to hearing that answer much, are you?"

"Hermione, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Save it, Malfoy." His eyes physically dimmed at his last name coming from her mouth like it had weeks ago. "Good night."

She shut the door in his face, once again locking it behind her. Pulling some parchment and a quill and ink from her desk, Hermione decides to make a list of all the things someone who is only interested in sex would do. If Malfoy did a considerable amount of them, then she would stay away from him. And if he didn't . . . she'd have to figure out what to do.

_1\. He talks about sex often, in some way, shape, or form._

_2\. He has a long sexual history with women, especially within the last few months._

_3\. He is vague or discrete about how many times he has had sex._

_4\. He dislikes labels._

_5\. He says whatever it takes to get a girl into bed with him._

_6\. He is persistent after multiple rejections._

_7\. He makes judgmental comments about a girl's appearance._

_8\. He treats girls like objects, yet relies on them for multiple things._

_9\. He is a coward._

_10\. He leads girls on._

Hermione was finally satisfied with her list. She folded the parchment, shoving it into the pocket of her book bag before pulling her blankets over herself, trying to get to sleep. As much as she hated to admit it, this task was much more difficult without Malfoy by her side. He'd really convinced her that it meant something more, but she was determined to remember who the boy really was deep down.

Malfoy was the boy who bullied her relentlessly for six years. The boy who stood idly by when she was being tortured by his aunt, in his house. The boy who took the side of Voldemort, who dedicated his existence to killing her best friend. Malfoy was still stuck in his Slytherin pureblood ways, and he could never like a mudblood. Maybe he'd gotten over it just enough to shag her a couple times, but she wouldn't give him that pleasure.

Lately, Hermione had been wrong about multiple things. What would make her think that she was right about Malfoy not just wanting to shag her?

**(a/n): I promise the next chapter will be more interesting XD**


	16. 16- I Didn't Ask For This

**He talks about sex often, in some way, shape, or form – October 26.**

One of the few things wrong with potions class was the fact that Malfoy sat only a few seats away. He'd moved even closer since they stopped talking, him and Zabini in the desk behind her and Ginny. One morning, she and Ginny had eaten their breakfasts quicker than usual. The two of them decided to get away from their boyfriends, who were obsessing over something irrelevant. Arriving in potions twenty minutes early, they were both disappointed to see Malfoy and Zabini, the only other ones in the room.

"Morning, Blaise," Ginny greets him. Ever since the Hogwarts trips, they'd actually become acquaintances.

"Hey, Ginny," he grins at her, earning a glare from Malfoy.

The girls sit in their seats in front of the friends, Hermione keen on ignoring them. However, her conversation with Ginny was cut short.

"I swear she used a spell to make them bigger," Malfoy says loudly to his friend. "And her waist – I swear I could practically wrap my hands around it."

"She sounds like a Barbie," Blaise comments, sounding almost bored. Ginny snorts at the comment, the boys catching her attention as well.

"Looked like one, too. Blonde bimbo from Hufflepuff. Make fun of the house all you'd like, but their kindness carries into the bedroom. The amount of blowjobs I've gotten over the past week is insane."

"_Only_ in the bedroom?" Blaise jokes, but Malfoy answers anyway.

"She did it in the back of the library yesterday."

Hermione sees his friend's face wrinkle in disgust out of the corner of her eye. "That's disgusting and unsanitary."

"That's not the dirtiest thing we did there," he promises.

"Who was it?" Ginny asks him, turning in her seat to look at him, not bothering to hide her curiosity. Hermione hoped he wouldn't answer, but turned around in her seat as well.

"What?"

"What Hufflepuff are you sleeping with?" she rephrases her question.

"Hannah."

"Abbott?!" Hermione gasps.

Malfoy quirks an eyebrow at her. "You know her?" he teases. "Oh yeah, didn't take much to convince her."

Hermione turns back around, crossing her arms and muttering under her breath, "Disgusting."

* * *

**He has a long sexual history with women, especially within the last few months – October 10-20**

"Our first game against Slytherin is in two weeks and we still don't have a proper team," Ginny complains at lunch that day. "It'll be a bloody miracle if we have time to eat dinner once between now and then with all the practices."

"Does that mean you're sticking me with your patrolling shifts?" Hermione asks, her tone letting her friends know that she already knew the answer.

"We can't afford to lose to them this year," Ron says, trying to himself feel less guilty.

"Really? Why this year? What is so important about this year?" Hermione questions. That's what they said every time they had a big game with Slytherin, and had been since Harry had joined quidditch in the first year.

The three of them shrug in unison. "It's just important," Harry says.

"Fine. But you all owe me. That's three extra wings to cover; might as well just do the whole floor."

And that's exactly what she did. Her shift lasted until midnight every day, two hours after curfew. When she got back to her dorm, all she wanted to do was sleep for six hours and drink coffee for the rest of the next day to do it all again.

But that first night, she nearly ran into someone in the portrait hole. None other than Hannah Abbott, her hair messy and tie hung loosely around her neck. "It's two hours after curfew," Hermione says, as if Hannah wasn't aware. The girl's face burned with embarrassment. "Get back to your dorm or I'll have to write you up."

She ducks her head in shame, rushing past Hermione and down the dark corridor. The Head Girl enters her common room, shaking her head clear of the thoughts that entered her mind when she thought of why Hannah was here so late at night.

For the next ten days, she crossed paths with ten different girls. After a while, Hermione stopped caring. They were going to keep shacking up with Malfoy even past curfew, and she hadn't had a cup of coffee for three hours. Any moment she spent writing reports on the girls out too late could be spent sleeping.

Needless to say, Hermione was relieved when Gryffindor had their game against Slytherin and won. For several reasons, including the fact that she didn't have to see every girl Malfoy chose to shag.

* * *

**3\. He is vague or discrete about how many times he has had sex – October 18**

Hermione found this bit of information through overhearing multiple conversations of his with his best friend Blaise. Each time Malfoy discussed some girl, she wrote down direct quotes. To keep things simple, she gathered the essence of each quote and compared it to the others. While she was slightly disgusted with what she read, it was necessary to find this information.

Each quote contained a vague description of a girl, which could easily fit multiple girls at Hogwarts. The exclusion was Hannah Abbott, but that conversation happened after she concluded her studies. Besides that occasion, he never used names. He also never said anything directly about the sex, only about actions such as oral. One could make the assumption that he had multiple partners in which he shagged, but he never directly confirmed that with his descriptions.

* * *

**4\. He dislikes labels – October 13**

Two weeks after Hermione had broken up with Ron, she pulled him aside after dinner. They hadn't so much as spoken, despite sitting across from each other at every meal and having patrolling duties together occasionally. She wasn't sure what to say until now.

"I made a mistake," she tells him. He scoffs, nodding. "I wasn't thinking straight. And while I still am not ready for anything serious, I miss you."

"As a friend, though, right?" he asks, rolling his eyes. Hermione shakes her head slowly. "You . . . want to get back together?"

"Yes."

And so she spent the next morning telling Ginny about this before potions class. "We're starting over. He's my boyfriend, not just complicated friends like last summer."

A scoff brings her away from her conversation. "Why do girls need to label everything?" he complains. "Why can't they, oh, I don't know, kiss someone because they want to, and not feel the need to get so worked up about it because they aren't dating?"

"Maybe because without labels, no one would know where they stand with each other. Like, for instance, without labels I might think that I _want_ to talk to you. Then I remember that we're enemies, so I do a fairly good job at avoiding you."

Malfoy dramatically clutches at his chest. "Ouch, Granger. How will I ever go on knowing that you hate me? I was hoping to marry you someday."

Hermione rolls her eyes, turning in her seat and ignoring him for the rest of the day.

* * *

**5\. He says whatever it takes to get a girl into bed with him – October 17**

It had been a week of six-hour shifts stretching until midnight. Hermione slept through breakfast, nearly late for potions. When lunch rolled around, she went back to her dorm to have a short nap. As soon as she laid down on her bed, door closed, she heard the portrait swing open.

Just her luck; Malfoy decided to go back to the dorm, too.

"This is the Head common room," she hears him say to someone.

"Clashy," some girl scoffs.

Malfoy hums in agreement. "Slytherin will never go with Gryffindor. But I don't spend much time in here, anyway. Want to see my room?" he flirts.

"What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"A very sexy one."

"Nice try, dark boy. I don't sleep with anyone without a date."

"Maybe we haven't gone on a date yet, but I'll take you on one this weekend."

". . . Promise?"

"Promise."

Hermione left immediately after she heard Malfoy's bedroom door close across from hers, not wanting to hear the thing to follow. And that weekend, Malfoy spent most of his time in his room with other girls, not on a date with the one Ravenclaw girl he had shagged.

* * *

**6\. He is persistent after multiple rejections – October 5**

Hermione was past her anger at Malfoy. He was being the boy he usually was. The only thing that had changed was that she had fallen for it. Although it had only been a day since she shut him out, he hadn't given up yet.

As soon as her final class ended, she headed towards her dorm. The moment the portrait swung open, she saw a familiar blonde boy standing in front of it. They locked eyes, and Hermione nearly burst into tears as she saw the things she had taken comfort in only a day ago.

Before she could turn and walk down the corridor, Malfoy reached out, offering her his hand to climb into the common room. Hermione didn't take it, but she stepped shakily past him.

"Tell me what I did. Name it, and I'll fix it."

"You can't fix this."

"What did I do?"

"You were yourself."

A flash of hurt crossed his face. "Well, you couldn't decide sooner that you didn't like who I was? You couldn't have hinted to me that you were going to drop me like you did with Weasel?"

"Don't mention him," Hermione says through her teeth. "You fooled me into thinking you were better. Your plan almost worked; are you happy?"

"Do I fucking look happy?!" he shouts, but Hermione doesn't so much as blink at his outburst. Malfoy motions to his eyes, and she notices that they look red and tired. "Do I look like I'm overjoyed because you fucking left me? You're no different from everyone else, Granger."

"I'm better than you."

"You're right. You are." Malfoy pauses. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to just let you go. Tell me exactly what it is you hate about me."

"Where would I start?"

"Anywhere you'd like. How about with things I can fix."

"I really don't think I owe you an explanation. You're abusive and manipulative," Hermione tells him honestly.

"Abusive? How am I abusive?"

"You lead people on. You lie to them, and you hurt them emotionally. I just left you before you got what you wanted from me and dropped me like another one of your whores."

Malfoy looks thoroughly confused. "What the hell are you talking about, Granger? I liked you. I _really_ liked you."

"Save it."

Hermione practically runs to her room, locking the door and ignoring the protests he yells through it for the next half hour.

* * *

**7\. He makes judgmental comments about a girl's appearance – October 27**

"In honor of new, official beginnings," Ron begins to say to Hermione during one of their patrolling sessions together, "I was wondering if you would like to go to the Halloween dance with me."

Hermione frowns. "Oh, sorry, I'm already going with someone. You should have asked me earlier."

". . . Wait, really?"

"No," she giggles, and Ron rolls his eyes.

"You scared me. I'll remember that for next time, though. So, the dance?"

"I'd love to accompany you," she beams. Maybe this time wouldn't end in a huge fight between her and her best friends. One drama-free dance would be great. Of course she was being naïve, but a girl could dream.

"Maybe you should put in more effort this time, Granger."

Of course, the only person who could ruin the moment had shown up.

"What are you talking about?" Ron sighs, like he's only asking because he knows Malfoy wants him to.

"Oh, nothing, Weasel. Just that, now that her buck teeth are gone, some students might expect her to actually look pretty, as opposed to the wreck that you were back at the Yule Ball."

"Viktor didn't seem to think so," Hermione retorts, even though she knows that her past boyfriend bothers Ron.

"He's too polite to say anything," Malfoy explains.

"I'd expect a civil manor from the _Head Boy_," Ron scoffs, crossing his arms.

Malfoy nods. "Of course. Just giving the _Head Girl_ some helpful suggestions. Have fun, you two," he calls over his shoulder as he walks away.

"What a git," they mutter, turning away from the blonde-haired wizard and heading in the other direction.

* * *

**8\. He treats girls like objects, yet relies on them for multiple things – October 17**

"_Balls deep_," Malfoy exaggerates.

"Disgusting," Blaise cuts in, but his friend doesn't acknowledge him.

"She's begging for it like a little-"

"Draco, you have a _mother_."

"And I have to put my hand over her mouth because we're shagging in the bathroom stall, and someone could walk in at any moment-"

"Why didn't you go to your dorm, it was a corridor away?"

"And I was nearly finished, so I went to pull out, but she stops me and keeps telling me not to stop-"

"Why are you telling me this? I didn't ask for this."

"So she finishes just in time, and she practically falls down to her knees and starts sucking-"

"Can you skip to the moral of the story?"

"Fine, but you'll be missing the best part." Malfoy pauses, like he expects Blaise to change his mind. "Well, I was too busy to finish my potions homework."

"I might have let you copy if you hadn't forced me to listen to that story. I'll never look at Pansy the same way."

"Well, you'll have to try," Malfoy whispers as the dark-haired witch enters the room. Hermione attempts to hide her interest in the situation as she and Ginny exchange glances throughout it.

"Draco," Pansy coos, settling herself down on his lap.

"Did you finish the assignment?" he asks sharply, skipping a 'hello.'

She nods, taking it out of her bag and handing it over. Malfoy pulls out a quill and some ink, scribbling down her answers on his own paper before handing hers back. "Cool. Well, class is starting soon. See you around."

Hermione watches Parkinson's face fall, and she trudges to the back of the room where her desk is. Hermione seemed to recall Malfoy convincing her to switch tables, so he could be an annoying prick from a closer distance. Neither of them were nice people, but surely Parkinson didn't deserve to be treated like she was at Malfoy's disposal.

* * *

**9\. He is a coward – October 14**

It was the first day Ron and Hermione were officially dating all year. They gave each other the correct labels, happy to refer to the other as their partner. While many of the Gryffindors were happy about this, a couple were not. To name one, Lavender Brown. Hermione really thought that the girl was over him. She seemed to be when he was single, but now all she did during meals was glare at the couple. Hermione avoided looking in Lavender's direction, not sure how she would react if they made eye contact.

Word had gotten around the school quickly that 2/3 of the Golden Trio were back together. Hermione wasn't sure if she liked everyone knowing about her relationship, but she supposed that there were worse things. She _knew_ there were worse things.

Halfway through the meal, the Great Hall grew eerily quiet and hushed. Looking around, it didn't take Hermione long to figure out why. Draco Malfoy was strutting over to the Gryffindor table, his eyes set on Hermione.

Walking next to the bench, his side hit her back. "Oh, sorry, didn't see you there," he fakes an innocent tone as he grins evily at her, continuing down the path of the bench and exiting the Great Hall. Hermione rolls her eyes, closing her book bag that was open, sitting at her side, and leaving. The last thing she wanted was to talk about Malfoy for another meal.

* * *

**10\. He leads girls on.**

Hermione already had evidence of this. It was made apparent to her every time she caught a glimpse of his face. When he smiled, her heart sped up. When he was staring off into space or frowning, Hermione felt the urge to go over and pick up where they'd left off that night. To join him in his room again, and wrap her arms around him, and kiss him every time they woke in the middle of the night.

Draco Malfoy had led her on, and Hermione Granger had fallen in love with him.

* * *

The only aspect of the month so far that had not been ruined by him was the letter she received after the incident in the Great Hall.

_October 14, 1998_

_I've only ever experienced a strong need of possessions. But you, beautiful girl, are not a possession, yet I desire you more than I have ever desired anything.  
-yet you are the one thing I cannot have._

* * *

**(a/n): This chapter was so anti-Draco it makes me sad. But I'm so excited to write more of Blaise, hopefully within the next few chapters. Leave a review and let me know what you think of some of the new things in this chapter, such as Hermione's assumption that Draco was just leading her on, or her getting back together with Ron. I appreciate it! Thanks for reading.**


	17. 17- Devious Angel

**I loved reading everyone's views on the chapter! A lot of you are annoyed with Draco and Hermione right now. Hopefully you're not too mad at me, though. Hang on a few more chapters, and I can almost promise you won't be angry about the events that take place. At least for a while. I'm annoyed with half of the characters, too. And as for the question of how many chapters there will be, I'm hoping this is only the beginning. I have a lot of adorable Dramione ideas, so if you'll stick around, I'll happily write them! ^.^**

/

Somehow, Draco had made it through the week leading up to the ball without a date. Bringing one wouldn't guarantee that he would get to bring the prettiest girl back to his dorm. He had to make excuses to the couple girls that were proud enough to ask.

At seven, Draco put on his clean white button-up shirt, tying an emerald tie around his neck. In the other room, he could hear quiet talking as Granger got ready with the Weaselette. He secretly couldn't wait to see her; she always looked beautiful, and after spending an entire day preparing, he was sure she would be breathtaking.

Putting on a suit coat the same color as his black dress pants, he studied himself over in the mirror. Possibly the only muggle thing that he liked better than its wizarding world equivalent were suits. Dress suits did not look as formal as the outfit he was currently wearing, in his opinion.

Draco neatly gelled his hair to one side, some of the blond strands hanging over his forehead. The clock above his door reads seven-thirty, so he exits his room. Granger nearly runs straight into him, but she notices him just in time.

Weaselette looks over Granger's shoulder at him. "Hey! Oh my god, your tie matches her dress. It looks like you're going together; that's so funny!"

Granger shoots the redhead a glare over her shoulder, but Draco's eyes are focused on the witch's dress. Weaselette was right. The fabric was a dark green with white embellishments. Her top had small flowers embroidered into it. He was happy to see that her sleeves were down to her elbows, and that her scars had faded and none of them looked new. A long white piece of fabric bordered with black is wrapped around her waist like a belt, making her waist look impossibly small. As she turns and walks down the skinny hall towards the common room, he notices the ties criss-crossed up her back.

A part of him swore that Granger had worn that color on purpose. He never anticipated how hot she would look in Slytherin colors. Almost devious, but still like an angel. Draco couldn't imagine the effect Granger would have on him if she ever wore emerald green lingerie for him. He'd have to keep that thought in the back of his mind for later.

His luck lasted longer than he thought it might. The three of them walked down to the dance together, Weaselette in the middle of the two. Draco looked over at Granger as many times as he could think of excuses for, before they reached the long staircase just outside of the Great Hall. Draco said goodbye to the two of them before heading down to find Blaise.

His friend was over by the drinks, standing in front of the table with a thoughtful look on his face.

"What are you doing?" Draco asks as he approaches Blaise.

He pauses. "I'm trying to decide if I want punch or pumpkin juice."

"Why don't you start with one, and get the other when you finish?"

Blaise glances up at him. "Genius . . . but, which one do I start with?"

"The punch. Soon enough, it'll be spiked."

"Good thinking." Blaise fills a cup halfway full with the red liquid, and the pair goes off to find a table to sit at.

Draco stares at the entrance, watching as Granger enters, her hand on the weasel's arm. He hated the fact that they were dating again, almost as much as he hated the fact that he'd let Granger go nearly a month ago. Ever since, he hadn't been able to sleep as well. And maybe he never would.

"You made it worse," Blaise suddenly speaks up, pulling the blonde boy's attention away from the beautiful girl across the room.

"Made what worse?"

"Hermione's feelings toward you. You proved that you hadn't changed."

Draco shrugs, ignoring the lump forming in his throat. "She was never going to believe that I had changed, anyway. No harm done. How do you even know that she . . ."

"Is constantly on your mind?" Blaise guesses, trying to help Draco out. "The love potion I made you describe to me last month. That's what she smells like. But you never connected the two."

Draco stares at his best friend, not sure how to react. "She's what I love?"

"You didn't know that?"

"It doesn't surprise me, it's just weird to know."

"You really fucked up," he reminds Draco.

"I remember."

"Do you want help fixing it?"

The blonde boy looks up at Blaise. "There's a way to fix it?"

"Of course there is. It's not easy, but if you love her, you should try." Draco urges Blaise to continue. "But before you do this, you _need_ to know if you're really in love with her, or just things about her. The idea of her."

"And how am I supposed to figure that out?"

"Look at her."

Draco turns his head, eyes searching the vast room for a witch with long curly hair cascading down her back. It only took him seconds, even with the other students surrounding her. His friend could tell when he had locked his eyes on her.

"Voice your thoughts. Tell me what you think about when you look at her."

Draco shrugs, figuring it couldn't hurt too much. "She looks amazing in dark green. And she looks happy with her friends . . . and boyfriend."

"Keep going."

"I just want to go over to her and tell her how my heart literally skips a beat when I see her. Tell her how much she broke me when she decided I wasn't worth her time anymore, and how I hate seeing her with Ron Weasley. And even if he's changed; even if he's a better boyfriend now, I know that I could be better. I know when she isn't alright. He just looks at her anorexia as an excuse to eat more. Why can't she give me a real chance?"

Blaise put his hand on Draco's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "We'll get you there. How much time are you willing to take for this?"

"As long as it takes."

"First thing; stop filling me in on all of your sexual escapades in front of her. Or at all. Just, please stop talking about shagging an innocent girl. It's getting gross."

Draco laughs. "It's gross to me, too."

"You need to start being her friend, and not her enemy," Blaise advises. "Give her someone to rant to when she needs a break from her Gryffindor friends. Be the person she can talk to again."

"What about the letters?"

Blaise narrows his eyes. "Letters? What kind of letters?"

The Head Boy had completely forgotten about the fact that no one knew about his occasional letters to the witch across the hall. He had gotten used to the idea of it. "Er, yeah. I started writing her short letters last month."

"Brilliant! Then give her another letter."

"How will that help? She doesn't know that it's me."

Blaise looks at him like the answer is obvious. "Then tell her."

"I can't," Draco shakes his head. "Not yet."

"What are you waiting for?"

"The day that I can say all of this to her face, and not hide behind my anonymity."

"And when will that be?"

Draco shrugs. "Maybe when she can stand the sight of me would be a good place to start."

"Then get working!" Blaise says, forcing Draco out of his seat. He points over in Granger's direction. "It's only been an hour of this dance and Weasel's already flaked out on your girlfriend." Draco follows his finger to see Granger with a large frown on her face, standing with Potter and Weaselette. After a few seconds, Potter pulls his arm from around his girlfriend's waist and walks toward the tall doors, no doubt chasing the weasel.

Draco didn't waste another second. He nearly sprinted toward the band who was taking a short break. "Do you know any muggle music?" he asks them.

The lead singer shrugs. "Some. Anything in particular?"

"'Something' by The Beatles?"

They all nod at each other. "We've got it." Draco thanks them, handing over a galleon before hurrying over to Granger.

She looks up at him after the first guitar riff, when he is only feet away from her. "I've been an absolute arse, but will you dance with me for one song?" he asks quickly. It's a short song, even though the band is playing it as a slow song to dance to.

Granger looks between him and her redheaded friend, who motions for her to take his hand. She finally takes the advice, allowing Draco to lead her into the center of the room. A part of him couldn't believe he was going to dance with Granger in front of the entire school, when she was still technically dating Ron. The other part of him couldn't believe it had taken him this long.

His hands were on Granger's waist, pulling her against his chest. They swayed in time to the song only they knew. The song only they listened to together in the common room sometimes.

"By the way, you look stunning in green," he whispered in her ear, his lips gently running over her earlobe, causing her to shiver.

"I'm still with Ron," she responds, sounding more like she's trying to remind herself than remind him.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

She stays quiet, her hands still resting on his shoulders as they danced. Halfway through the song, Granger breaks the silence between them. "Why did you sleep with all of those girls?"

"It wasn't that many…"

"It was at least twenty in one month."

"It was only one."

Granger looks up at him, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "But I nearly ran into a girl every night in our common room..."

It was at this point that the song ended, an awkward break throughout the room. It seemed as if all eyes and ears were on them, and Draco wasn't about to reveal one of his secrets to an entire room full of his peers.

As if Granger could read his mind –she probably could; she was brilliant in every way– she took his hand, making her way past the crowds of people between them and the doors. They ended up in a completely empty corridor on the other side of the school. The pair sat on the ledge a few feet up on the wall before Draco decided to tell her.

"I really have changed in some ways. Those girls were all . . . er, failed attempts to get my old life back." Draco pauses. "Granger, this past month has been really fucking difficult."

"How?"

He wanted to tell her how much it hurt when she had left him just like everyone else. He wanted to ask why she had to put him through hell, and why he seemed to be the only one affected by their distance. Why she was fine when he was a wreck.

But he didn't.

"I don't know who I'm supposed to be. I don't know who I am anymore. So I tried to go back to my old habits. After one girl, I realized I was never going back to that. I tried every night to get back into it, but nothing worked. So I just sent every girl back to their dorm in hopes that they wouldn't tell anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"It didn't feel the same. It was more like a chore, or an inconvenience to try to shag a different girl every night. Because I sure as hell couldn't go back to a girl I couldn't sleep with a few days ago. It all felt . . . pointless and repetitive."

"Why did you keep trying?"

Draco shrugs. "I'm just completely alone in this changing, and I didn't want to be. So I tried not to change; to just stay the same childish boy I was before, with no real opinions and simple problems."

Granger crosses her arms. "It's naïve and ignorant to think you're alone. Everyone is changing. Our world was nearly torn apart a few months ago, and now we're being forced to come back to a school none of us can leave when we want to. Being a coward doesn't help anyone, especially not yourself."

"You know what else doesn't help? Leaving me out of nowhere. Why don't you stop cutting people out of your life with no explanation? Start solving your problems like an adult," Draco retorts, his words cutting through her like a knife.

"You know nothing about why I really left you, although it is _painfully_ obvious. I don't need to answer to you. If you're toxic in my life, I have a right to cut you out with no explanations. It isn't childish, it's finally doing something for myself. My life is just that; it's _mine_ and it does not revolve around making sure I don't hurt anyone's feelings, especially yours. Why are you so bitter over this? You use people all the time; what I did was not worse."

"I'm toxic, am I? Can I ask what I did to deserve that title, or do you 'not owe me an explanation'?"

"You tried to use me, and it didn't work. You almost had me, though. Luckily, I was brought to my senses before anything could happen."

"I never used you! I wanted you to be happy; so fucking sorry about that."

"Sure you did. Look, Malfoy, I have to go find my boyfriend, so I'll see you around. Thanks for the nice chat." Granger turns, heading down the hall before the sentence is even out of her mouth.

"Why did you have to come to your senses?!" he yells at her, his walls crumbling to the ground around him. She never looked back at him. "Why couldn't you just stay?"

/

**(a/n): Leave a review maybe? I need motivation to write more. Also some ideas would be rad because I'm having a bit of writers block for the next couple of chapters . I hope you liked this one!**


	18. 18- Girls Love That Cliche Crap

**(a/n): ok so REALLY QUICK '**_**I Hate U I Love U'**_** by Gnash is kind of the perfect song for this current situation and I just discovered this halfway through the chapter and wOW. It is actually perfect. Also, I'm making a Dramione playlist on my YouTube account, and the link is in my profile if anyone is interested.**

* * *

_November 9, 1998_

_I never told you, but I was falling in love._

No one had even mentioned the events that transpired at the dance to Hermione. It was as if everything was so weird that they weren't sure if it had really happened, or if they somehow imagined it. Her best friend would occasionally glance at her, a strange look overtaking her face, but dismiss whatever her thought was seconds later.

While she had fixed her small argument with Ron from that night, she had become increasingly curious as to who she had been receiving letters from. At first, she thought it was simply a nice gesture. Slowly, they became more romantic, and then Hermione had found that in her spot at the Gryffindor table early that morning during breakfast. Glancing around, she noticed that no one else was around besides a couple first years that had gotten stuck with the first classes of the day. She doubted that something so poetic had come from an eleven-year-old, however.

After a few days of silent curiosity, she finally decided to tell her best friend. Previously, Ginny had shown no bias with being Ron's sister, and Hermione knew she could trust her. After her last class, she found Ginny in the crowded halls and pulled her away. "I need your advice on something," was all she said, and Ginny, very eagerly, followed her to the dorm on the seventh floor.

Gathering the small stack of notes, Hermione took a deep breath before handing the parchment over to Ginny who was seated on the edge of the bed. Silently, the redhead flipped through, reading each note with growing excitement spreading onto her face. After skimming the last note, Ginny practically jumped off the bed.

"Hermione, you have a secret admirer! This is so exciting! We need to find them!"

"Ginny . . . I'm dating your brother."

"That doesn't matter!" she insists. "If we're being honest with ourselves, do you really think he would write a letter to you unless you were miles away?"

"Probably not, but thanks for the reminder," Hermione rolls her eyes.

Ginny only shrugs. "The least we could do is try to find the source of these," she motions to the pile in her hand. "They write a's like the way they show up on the muggle computer. That's a lead."

"Are you a detective now?" Hermione teases her friend.

"I could be."

"Sure. But it doesn't even matter! I'm dating Ron again, and I won't make the same mistake as before."

The redhead sighs loudly. "But what if the mistake wasn't breaking up, but getting back together with him? What if this person is your soulmate? If you don't find out who it is, you'll wonder forever. You know I'm right, Hermione."

"Do your investigating. But I'm having no part in this."

Ginny scoffs. "Fine. I'll go find your future husband myself, but just remember that this automatically makes me the bridesmaid at your wedding."

"Deal."

She stuffs the letters into her book bag before heading to the doorway of the room. "I'll see you at dinner tonight?"

"Of course," Hermione nods, and watches her friend leave.

* * *

Draco couldn't stand it anymore. Everything seemed to be blurred around him; nothing made sense anymore. Only Blaise had even acknowledged the fact that Draco had danced with Granger over a week ago. All the blonde boy got anymore were weird looks, and some angry ones from Slytherins. It was as if he was the odd man out in his own Hogwarts house.

At the beginning of dinner, Draco practically sprinted down to the dungeons. By the time he reached them, his shirt was drenched in sweat. That's what he got for running down sixteen flights of stairs and across the castle in only ten minutes.

Approaching the familiar stone wall, Draco repeated the password to the common room, and the wall slid aside to reveal the short passageway. This time, the odd looks were more for the smell of sweat that the Head Boy emitted, as well as the fact that he was in the common room for the first time that year.

Draco plopped down on the black couch in front of the fireplace, chest still heaving as he caught his breath. He'd truly missed it here; even the coldness of the room. Since the Slytherin common room was partly underneath the black lake, there was a green glow to each lamp, as well as the windows that looked like tinted glass and were only for decoration; you wouldn't be able to make out a thing through them. As Gemma Farley, a Slytherin prefect, had said in Draco's first year, "We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck." That was the best explanation, and it almost made Draco feel safe from the vast, dark lake on the other side of the wall. He also appreciated the architectural qualities to the rooms, especially the common one.

He didn't mind waiting ten minutes for Blaise. By that time, the common room was empty, Slytherins either being in their rooms or at dinner. It gave Draco time to gather some of his thoughts in his home of six years.

Finally, the Head Boy's friend came down the stairs and entered the common room. He glanced over at the couch, seeing the back of Draco's head. After a second, Blaise did a double take and looked back towards the fireplace.

". . . Draco?"

The blonde boy turns in his seat, spotting his friend behind him. "Hi, Blaise."

"What are you doing in here?" he asks slowly.

"I need to talk to someone before I go insane, and . . . you're my best friend. And it's going to get depressing and serious."

"Do you want to do it here?"

Draco shakes his head. "Can we go down to the lake?"

"It's almost the middle of November, Draco," Blaise reminds him, earning only a shrug in response. "_Fine_," he sighs in defeat. "I'm going to go grab two coats so we don't freeze to death."

Blaise returns after another minute with two of his winter jackets, handing the black one to Draco and shrugging on the emerald green one with the Slytherin logo, buttoning it up. "For someone who's lived in a dungeon for seven years, you should be better at handling the cold," he teases Blaise.

"Oh, shove it."

Draco holds his hands up in mock surrender before leading the way outside. The cold air meets their exposed faces with a sting, but they only pull the collars of their jackets up further and head onto the bridge reaching halfway across the cold Black Lake, which resembled its name very well, especially at this time of the year.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Blaise finally asks, plopping down next to his blonde best friend, legs swinging inches above the water.

"'Kid'? I'm only four months younger."

"Just answer the question," he groans.

"Fine. I guess I'm just upset. Half of the Slytherins look at me like I'm some kind of traitor for dancing with Granger. We went through a whole bloody war; are they really still so stuck in their ways?"

"Some of them had families that weren't as harsh about Voldemort." Draco noticed a small stutter as his friend said the name. "They never realized that their parents didn't have the best morals. They're still against muggle-borns and blood traitors."

"It's completely mental! I know that I used to fight on the opposite side up until a few months ago, but were the deaths of mostly innocent people not enough to show that this isn't worth it?" Draco sighs, rubbing his temples. "Muggle born or pureblood; we're all witches and wizards, and that's all that should matter."

Blaise nods. "Never thought I'd be hearing this from Draco Malfoy."

"Yeah, well . . . she changed me. For the better."

"Why don't you show her these things? This is a real change. Your opinion on this matter alone is enough to prove that you aren't the same boy from previous years."

"I don't know how to talk to her anymore. I'm so in love with her, and I know that it might take a while for her to ever show me the same feelings if we were to start dating. And what if when it happens, it's not as amazing as what I've built up in my head?" Draco worries aloud.

"Well, you've kissed her before. Was it as good as you imagined?"

"Better. It was like . . . the feeling I get during a quidditch game. The moments leading up to my lips on hers . . . like when I spot the snitch, and as soon as our skin touches, it's the same joy and relief as when my hand wraps around the cold metal of it."

"That is the most cliché thing I have ever heard anyone say, non-ironically. But that's the kind of shit you should be telling her! Girls love that crap," Blaise explains.

"Granger isn't just a girl. She's not cheesy, and she doesn't like what most girls do. She's intelligent, and she likes books and spending time in the library and doing homework and answering questions in class."

"And she likes bad boys. You're as bad as they get."

"Oh, thanks," Draco drawls sarcastically. "I doubt that she likes bad boys."

"Well, she likes you, so who am I to exclude the rest of the gangsters out there?"

"She doesn't like me."

"She does. She wouldn't have that thing with you if she never liked you."

"Well, she ended it pretty quickly. Maybe she came to her senses."

"Someone changed her mind; it's pretty obvious. My bet is Weasley; doesn't seem like something he wouldn't be able to stoop so low to do. They got back together a few days after your thing ended."

"You're probably right," Draco says. How did the thought never occur to him before? Of course it was the Weasel; what a prick.

"What about the girl? Do you think she had anything to do with it?" Blaise wonders.

"No," the Head Boy denies. "Ginny—er, Weaselette is pretty cool. I don't think she even likes her brother that much as a person."

"I don't either," Blaise agrees, laughing at his own joke.

"Who does besides Potter and Granger?"

"Do you think she even really likes him? They don't seem that happy together. Every time I see them interact, it's only friendly. Plus, with that fight at the dance, maybe they broke up."

"No, she said that he was still her boyfriend when I talked to her that night."

"She could have been lying. Or maybe something changed."

"They still spend time together," Draco points out.

"They have to; they have the same best friend."

"I guess so, but you'd think they would be a little off if they broke up a week ago."

"They can't be happy together," Blaise points out. "Maybe for a short period of time, but their personalities clash too much to be in a relationship. A friendship is more laid back – more of Weasley's style. Granger will want a commitment soon enough."

"You think he'll commit?"

"I'm not sure, but let's not wait to find out," Blaise suggests. "Our first order of business is finding out who, if anyone, talked her into changing her mind about you. Obviously it's someone she trusts, if she followed their advice. Make a list of everyone she would trust, that knows you. We can talk to them all and rule out a few."

"Sure, I'll do it tonight," Draco nods.

"Okay." Blaise looks up at the sky, which is almost completely black. The days had grown shorter as winter dawned over the castle. "Can we go inside now? It's bloody freezing out here and I want more pumpkin juice before they run out for the season."

"What a wimp," Draco mutters as he follows the outline of his best friend back towards the brightly lit school.

* * *

**(a/n): Once again, thank you everyone for the reviews! If anyone wants to complain about Ron in this fic, hit me up because I don't like him much right now either. Also, Harry is getting on my nerves because he made Hermione doubt herself like wHY MUST HE DO THIS UUUGHH. Daily complaint about my own fic okay. I'm glad that most of you agree that Dramione right now would be too rushed, because I almost made them get together on the night of the dance instead of doing my original plan, but the original is too perfect an opportunity to pass up so it'll be a little bit later into the year. Any suggestions on things Draco could do to show Hermione that he's changed or how much she means to him? I only have one idea and I'll probably need a few more if anyone has some. Leave a review and let me know :-) Thank you so much for reading, and follow or favorite if you haven't already! Until next time.**


	19. 19- Turn Of Events

Draco woke up the next Friday with an ache in his stomach. Almost immediately, he shot out of bed and ran to the shared bathroom, sticking his head in the toilet.

"Malfoy, are you alright?"

Great, the last person he wanted to see is currently watching him throw up. Sitting back on his heels, Draco wipes his mouth with the back of his arm, flushing it and standing to face Granger. "Oh, I'm doing peachy, thanks for asking," he says sarcastically.

"I'll stop by the headmistress's office on my way to class and get you excused for the day. Just go lay down and get some sleep," she instructs.

Draco had no complaints; he was exhausted even with his eight hours of sleep. Granger left shortly after he went back to bed, telling him that she would bring him lunch later. So he slept until she came back, keeping her promise. After eating half of the pasta with no success of keeping it down, he gave up on the meal.

The Head Boy was anything but tired. He wandered their dorm, knowing he shouldn't go into the corridors or he might get into trouble. A thought dawned on him as he paced in the narrow, short hallway that held the doorways to not only his room, but Granger's. He'd only ever seen the inside of her room, and that was at the very beginning of the year.

Pushing open the cracked door, he glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place. The floor was clean, her clothes were clean and neatly hung up, and the desk held a few quills, otherwise bare. He wondered if the drawers were the same way. Draco knew that snooping through her room was a huge invasion of privacy, but his curiosity could not be tamed anymore.

Pulling open the top drawer, he saw a stack of graded homework. The second one had at least one hundred small pieces of parchment with short notes scribbled on them; mostly reminders of assignments due. He didn't look too far into those.

The third drawer down, however, held multiple newspaper clippings. Draco noticed that about half of them were written by Rita Skeeter, which is what tipped him off to the fact that they were hidden for a reason. Pulling a short one from the pile, he gazed at the frayed paper.

A moving picture of Potter with one arm around Granger, the other around Weasel, stood prominent at the top of the page. _**DARK LORD DEFEATED**_, it read in large, bold letters above. _Harry Potter, the chosen one, has fulfilled his life's mission of taking down the Dark Lord._ Someone had crossed out 'fulfilled his life's mission of', leaving only the fact that he had defeated Voldemort. As if Harry's life was automatically dedicated to killing someone.

_The eighteen year old boy, along with the help of two unnamed friends, successfully located each part of the Dark Lord's soul, destroying them all._ Draco knew for a fact that everyone who didn't get their information from shitty articles in a gossip magazine knew Granger and Weasel's names just as much as Potter's. To pretend that they were anonymous was not only trashy, but it displayed poor researching skills. The rest of the paragraph was just as flawed as the beginning; it almost enraged Draco. He knew these people. Even Weasel deserved more than a poorly written article not even acknowledging that he has an identity.

As Draco continued going through the stack, he noticed a pattern. Instead of the articles crediting Granger for all of her knowledge and contribution to taking down the dark lord, they focused on trivial things. Her appearance, her relationship with Weasel, and fake scandals with Potter. It made him sick, how the media treated someone who saved everyone's lives.

The question was, why would she keep this shit? Obviously it wouldn't make her feel better. All of it was fake, and it downgraded the very important role she played for seven years. Knowing her –the real her, the way she thought– Draco knew that she was keeping it to look at when she felt shitty about herself. Reading the articles that make her seem small, or judge her by her appearance or association to the men in the group.

Skimming each article, he made sure that there was nothing actually important in them. He took them back to his own room, pulling open his bottom dresser drawer where he kept important things. Tucking the pages underneath a large stack of books, he pulled out his own newspaper article. This one spread out over five pages.

A week after Voldemort was killed, the entirety of the _Daily Prophet_ was dedicated to the heroes of the good side. It first listed each death from both sides, then went on to have some paragraphs about each of the fallen fighters (again, only on the good side). Draco remembered the morning that it was delivered to his house by his owl. Only hours before, his father had been taken away to Azkaban to serve a long sentence. His mother was in tears, but Draco was relieved.

He'd read through the entire paper that day; all seventy-five pages. And the part that really stuck with him were the large sections on the golden trio.

Potter's was, of course, the longest. It went through his parents' death, to his battles each year in Hogwarts, to describing the year he spent away, searching for horcruxes. It explained not only how much of a better place the world would be, wizarding and muggle, but also what he planned to do next. Draco appreciated that; someone had finally acknowledged that he still had a life after this. He got a shot at a semi-normal one. That was something everyone deserved.

Granger's was next. They described the first time she met the pair on the train, and how they never really got along until the boys helped her escape from the troll in first year on Halloween. After that, she played a major role in defeating Voldemort. Granger was the one to figure out key parts. Without it, they wouldn't have been able to get very far. The article credited every one of her discoveries to herself, clearly showing the impact she had. And one of his favorite lines, the very last one; "_Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch in her year, now adds 'the brains behind the greatest triumph of the wizarding world' to her very long list of achievements._"

He'd brought that one article alone to school with him, not only because it was brilliantly written, but because the cover page had a picture taken by another witch or wizard at the school of her in the library, surrounded by stacks of large books towering over her head, hair tucked behind her ear, and notes scattered around. She looked intent; at home. And someday, he wanted to be the reason for that expression covering her features. He wanted to make her feel like she was home.

Knowing that Granger needed the article more than he did, he gave it up and slipped it into the otherwise empty drawer. Next time she was feeling down, she would be greeted with a newspaper listing her accomplishments. And maybe she would feel better for a while.

* * *

Hermione was patrolling with Ron for the first time in a week. The couple hadn't had any time alone recently, causing them to practically abandon their duties once again. While others were off covering other floors, Ron and Hermione wandered up to the currently empty astronomy tower.

He sat on the short wall surrounding the top floor, making Hermione worry about his safety. He could stay on a broom, however, so the chances of him falling backwards weren't too high.

"You should really go on a broom ride with me," Ron suggests. "We've been friends since first year and you've never agreed to it."

"Maybe," Hermione nods. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"What do you mean?"

"I went to Hogsmeade to help McGonagall."

Ron still looks confused. "So?"

"So I had to take a broom over to the town. And Malfoy can actually handle one, so I—"

"So your first ride was with _Malfoy_? Why did you accept his offer before mine?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Because I had to, Ronald. Stop being so sensitive!"

"You didn't _have to_. Especially not with him. What's going on, Hermione?"

She was momentarily stunned by the fact that he hadn't called her 'Mione. "Nothing is! Why does something have to be going on? It's not like—"

He cuts off her nervous rambling. "Tell me the truth."

"I . . . okay, for a while, we were friends. Until I realized he hadn't really changed. He was just pretending to have been a different person."

Ron jumps down from the wall, still towering over her, but he was closer than before and it forced her to tilt her head up sharply and look at him. "That's not an excuse. You're a traitor to all of us, Granger. That ferret is why you broke up with me. I was right before, wasn't I? I bet he's just waiting for you to get back so he can shag you. What a bloody slut," he scoffs.

"If I'm a slut, then why did I never sleep with you?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because you're a girl. For years, you had me convinced that you were different. But you're really not, and . . ." he laughs mid-sentence, "you're no better than Lavender, or Parvati, or any other girl here. You want to fix some 'bad boy' and if they're a decent person, they're not interesting and by that standard, they're not worth your time. And you friend-zone every decent guy that actually wants you for something more than a shag buddy."

"'Friend-zone'? You think you got friend-zoned? I'm _dating_ you. We broke up because I respected myself too much to sleep with you when I didn't want to, not because I wanted a bad boy. You're no different from any cliché guy, either. You're immature, you're obsessed with physical contact, and you expect me to fall at your feet and you don't do anything for me."

"But I bet the ferret is your wet dream, huh? I'll bet you _have_ wet dreams about him. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think you've acted on them. Luckily, he doesn't fraternize with mudbloods."

"He doesn't?" a new, familiar voice sounds from the door leading to the staircase.

Ron scoffs. "Oh, so you were planning to have gotten rid of me by now? Have to give you credit though. This would be a great place to shag."

"What's he going on about?" Malfoy asks from the doorway, looking at Hermione.

"He's mental. He thinks we're sleeping together."

Malfoy turns his attention back to the tall redhead. "Maybe if you want her to sleep with you, you should stop calling her something that has a negative connotation. About something that isn't her fault, and doesn't really affect her."

"You're one to talk," Ron laughs humorlessly. "You called her a mudblood for years. You and your family nearly killed her because of it."

"People can change, Weasel. Including you. And now that you've taken my place as a pureblood snob, you should get the hell out of Granger's life."

"You think we're trading places? I would rather die than be like you."

"Guess we should probably start ordering the flowers now, then," Malfoy jokes. "It's inevitable. I never thought I'd be like you in any way. After seeing my friends dying around me, though . . . it hit me that blood status doesn't fucking matter. It's irrelevant. Too bad the war had the opposite effect on you, though."

Ron shakes his head the entire time. "Full of shit," he mutters, shoving past the blonde boy.

"It really does suck to see someone turn into a blood-status snob after that," Malfoy says almost to himself.

"It sucks to hear my boyfriend call me a mudblood."

"He's an idiot."

"Clearly," Hermione agrees, ducking past Malfoy and leaving him alone at the top of the astronomy tower.


	20. 20- That's A Peculiar Place To Sit

Hermione mutters the password to the portrait of the fat lady. She nods, swinging the picture open to reveal the small passageway connected to the Gryffindor common room. The curly-haired witch climbs through it, brushing off her robes as she steps onto the maroon rug.

Immediately, she spotted her friends sitting on the couch. Harry had his arm around Ginny, who was sitting in the middle. Her brother was sprawled out on the other side of her. The three looked up as she walked over.

"Hermione, I'm surprised to see you," Harry voices his thoughts. "I thought you'd practically live in the library this next month."

"You have finals, too, and I'm not letting the Golden Trio fail. Or the Chosen One's girlfriend, for that matter."

The three Gryffindors roll their eyes in unison. "Should have guessed," Ginny mutters.

"Come on," Hermione nearly whines. "Is it so insane to want a good job after our last year? Yes, we may be well-know –some of us more than others," she looks at Harry, "but that doesn't guarantee anything."

"She's right," Ron finally says. Over the past few weeks, since their fight on the astronomy tower, he'd been unusually quiet and always agreeing with her when he had the chance to. Like he was trying to make it up to her without having to apologize. It just showed that he didn't regret anything he had said. Malfoy really did, though. That first night, he'd traced over her scars as they kissed. Especially the 'mudblood' one.

She assumed that they weren't really together. Neither of them had initiated a discussion on the matter, but she did know that they weren't a good match anymore. Even so, they'd been friends for so long and it would be a shame to throw everything they've been through away. So she dragged the group of three down to the library, and sat down at the table in the back, away from every other one. It was her go-to, because it was secluded and because no one else ever sat there.

"I need your schedules so we can go through the lists. Ginny and I have potions, so we'll start with that class," Hermione instructs. She pulls out the study guide Professor Slughorn gave her, which she had to request to get it early. Going down the list, they reviewed only a fourth of it. Between her friends' random outbursts of off-topic conversations, and the curfew time they still had to follow, Hermione felt incredibly unproductive. The quartet packed their things up once again, slowly making their way toward the Gryffindor common room.

When they reached one of the staircases, Hermione parted with her friends with a short goodbye. She picked up her pace as Harry, Ginny, and Ronald's footsteps and voices faded into the seemingly empty castle. The only sources of light were the occasional torches set on the stone wall, and the shadows were nearly as creepy this time of night as they were in the corridors of the vaults in Gringotts. Hermione hated being alone in the castle after curfew, but when she was patrolling, she never felt as nervous.

Rounding another corner, nearly running towards the seventh floor, she collided with a hard body. Both of them flew back onto the ground, dropping everything they were carrying. Hermione groaned at the pain in her shoulder and back, sitting up carefully to see who she'd crashed into.

"Blaise?"

The dark-skinned boy rubbed the back of his head. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he sighs. "Sorry, it was my fault, too."

"Don't worry about it," she dismisses his apology. "What are you doing out so late?"

He kneels in front of her, collecting the stack of parchment that had scattered all over the cold floor when she fell. "Draco needed to talk to me. We both lost track of time. What's your excuse?"

"Studying," she says, and he nods in understanding.

"Of course. Should have guessed that one myself."

Hermione chuckles. "You're invited to join me. I'm sure you'd be a better partner than my three friends. They're smart, but they get distracted so easily."

"It wouldn't help that you tried to study with all of them at once."

"That's true. I should have anticipated not getting much done."

Blaise shrugs. "I'll have to take you up on that sometime. I'm not sure how well I'll do in potions. Not sure about Draco, either."

"As long as we can all be civilized, it wouldn't hurt to study together. The three of us, I mean."

"Are you sure?" he asks, making sure she was comfortable with it.

"Yeah. You're both very smart. Er . . . don't tell Malfoy that I said that."

"Promise," he grins. "How is this Saturday after breakfast? That way, we won't need to worry much about curfew."

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

"Have a good night, Hermione."

"You as well, Blaise."

Well, this weekend ought to be interesting.

/

"She called me smart?!" Draco asks in disbelief. He lays flat on his stomach, hands propping his head up off of the emerald comforter thrown on top of his bed carelessly. To Blaise, the mature Head Boy of Hogwarts currently looked a lot like a small, lovestruck school-boy.

"Yes, she did. But she told me not to tell you, so don't mention anything to her."

"What were her _exact_ words, though?" he presses.

"She said that we were both smart."

"Who is 'we'?"

Blaise groans internally. "You and I."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive, Draco."

"Maybe you just took it the wrong way. She was probably talking about herself."

"Merlin. She wasn't talking about herself. She said 'you're both very smart'."

"That's _exactly_ what she said?" Draco questions, eagerly awaiting an answer.

"_Yes_."

"Hermione Granger thinks I'm smart," he beams to himself.

"Yes, she does. Now we need to go get breakfast, then study with her."

Draco breaks out of his trance quickly, sitting up at the edge of the bed. "What do you mean? We're studying with her? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd get nervous. Just relax. It's only studying."

"If I mess something up, she might think I'm dim!" he panics.

"Then don't mess up," Blaise deadpans, which only makes Draco's anxiety spike up. The blonde boy begins to pace between the walls of his room. "I'm joking. You'll be fine."

"Why did you have to do this?"

"Because it's part of our plan. Hermione is the smartest witch of our year, or the one below us. She needs to see that not only have you changed your dark ways, but you're still intellectual enough for her. And if you focus and get a lot done, she may compare you to Weasley and realize that she doesn't want someone immature."

"Genius. That is exactly what you are, Zabini. A bloody genius, I swear," Draco rambles as he pulls on a black sweater and skinny jeans to match the color.

"I try," Blaise nods, patting Draco on the back as they leave his dorm and head off to the Great Hall.

No matter how hard the blonde boy tried, he couldn't drag his eyes away from Granger. Why he felt different this time was a mystery. It was as if his crush was hitting him again; the way he loved the small things about her more than anything. She was indescribably perfect.

As soon as Blaise finished his meal –which felt like forever to Draco– the pair casually walked over to the Gryffindor table. Half the school's eyes were on them again as they approached Granger. She glanced up over Harry's shoulder at them, shooting a small smile in their direction. It took everything Draco had within him not to return it with the dorkiest, childish grin he could possibly make.

"Are you almost ready?" Blaise asks her. They could tell by the confused looks on her friends' faces that she hadn't yet mentioned their study date to them. Draco assumed that she probably hadn't planned on it at all.

"Yeah. Let's go," she says, pushing her half-empty plate towards Weasel and climbing to her feet. Blaise leads the way out of the Great Hall, Draco walking next to Granger to the library. As soon as the large double doors came into vision, the head boy watched from the corner of his eye, noting the small smile that overtook her face. She was such a nerd, but she was an adorable one.

"Do you mind if we sit at my usual table?" she whispers to the pair of Slytherins next to her as they enter the midst of shelves of books.

"Lead the way," Blaise offers, gesturing for her to go in front of him. She does so, passing thousands, maybe a million dusty books until she reaches the back left corner. A small table sits there, seeming almost out of place because it's far away from the other places to sit. However, he could see why it would be a good place to study. It was secluded.

His friend sat on the side against the wall, casually placing his book bag in the only open seat next to him. This left only the two seats across from him open. Granger sat on the right side, so Draco settled himself next to her on the outer side of the table. Blaise shared a small look with Draco, letting him know that that was the goal.

The two both pulled out their list of things to study for potions as soon as they were settled, and Draco hurriedly followed their leads. After skimming through the long list that took up two columns on the parchment, Blaise set off alone to find books to help them.

"Do you want to start on the first few?" Granger asks Draco after his friend leaves. "They should be easy enough."

"Er, yeah. Easy. Test me."

She reads the sentence off the paper. "How do you alter the age you become when drinking an ageing potion?"

Draco thinks back to the beginning of the year. One of the sixth year Gryffindors had to drink it, and only ended up growing a short beard because they thought it tasted gross. "The more you consume, the older you appear. The amount has only a small impact on how long the potion will last."

Granger nods as he answers, and a small smile pulls at the corner of her lips. "Perfect."

"So are you," he whispers under his breath.

"What?"

"Next question," he improvises.

"Oh, right . . . . What are the three most important ingredients in the cure for boils potion?"

"Horned slugs, porcupine quills, and snake fangs."

"One of the more dangerous potions to collect ingredients for," Granger comments. For some reason, he doesn't expect the quiet opinion, and he laughs.

"I think you could take them." She's been up against worse.

"Good to know," she chuckles quietly. "What's the proper way to obtain a unicorn horn for a potion?" she reads the next question.

"Hold on," Draco stops her, causing her to look up at him with confusion drawn across her face. The blonde boy takes the parchment with multiple questions scrawled on it, setting it on the table. Granger follows it, like she's worried he was going to take it. Draco only pushes it away to be forgotten for the time being.

"Did I do something?"

"When?"

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it nervously. "After that half of a week. When you just . . . started avoiding me again."

"I don't know," she admits.

"Can I help you figure it out?"

"You can try." Draco urges her to continue. "I really was happy. But after everything . . . I mean, one would think that being part of the famous Golden Trio would be a real confidence booster. But really, it's made me doubt myself more. I thought that I made good contributions to our discoveries and our defeat, when no one else recognizes me for it. I'm just some female 'icon'. Someone they can criticize publicly. They ignore my achievements and focus on what I'm wearing, or who I'm with. So if so many witches and wizards can do that, then I must not be as smart as I thought I was."

Draco remembered the irrelevant, degrading articles he'd found in her drawer. Granger deserved to be admired the same way Potter was. As a hero. Without her, Voldemort may never have been killed. And, as selfish as it sounds, Draco would have never been freed from his father and the evil path that was laying before him.

"You saved me," he blurts out. For some strange reason, he had never made the realization, and now that he had it, he couldn't hold it in anymore. "You saved me from something worse. I could have spent my life as a Death Eater. I could have never realized the errors of my way. I would have become truly evil. And while you saved the good side, and the muggles that would have been subjected to his torture, you saved the dark side, too. We're all free, mentally. Some of us just don't appreciate it yet."

"Do you?"

"I do. I really do."

Granger breaks eye contact with Draco, staring down at the denim of her jeans and playing with a frayed edge in her sweater. "I didn't do it alone."

Draco's finger rests underneath her chin, directing it back up so that her eyes are level with his. "But you played such a crucial part in it. You know it deep down, but you've brainwashed yourself to believe what someone irrelevant like Rita Skeeter writes about you to get more reads. You're better than that. You shouldn't doubt yourself."

"Was I wrong to doubt myself when I thought that you really liked me? Was Harry wrong?"

Draco raises an eyebrow, lowering his hand from her chin. She keeps her beautiful dark eyes trained on his grey ones this time. "What did Potter say?"

"He didn't think you had changed. Not in that way. He said that you would only use me to get what you wanted, and when I gave in, you would throw me aside."

"He thought I was only trying to shag you?" Granger nods silently. "I guess you were wrong to doubt your instincts."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Were you happy?" he asks. "With me?"

"You . . . made me feel important. Like you really wanted me there, and only me."

"I did."

"Do you still feel the same way?" she says, hardly loud enough to hear over the loud beating of his heart. He wondered if she could hear it, too.

"I'm not sure."

"When will you know?"

"When I know that acknowledging my feelings for you won't hurt me again."

"How can I prove that it won't?"

Draco subconsciously edges closer, and he can feel her warm, minty breath ghosting over his face now. "Tell me."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Granger's eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, only inches away from hers. "I won't let you hurt again. I'll catch you if you fall again. As long as you promise to catch me, too."

"Always," he whispers. With this simple word, bolts of electricity seem to course through him, beginning at the thin skin of his lips. They ghost against hers as he talks, and he knows that his feelings have never wavered since they came about.

"Do you still feel the same way?" she repeats her question. Her soft skin against his is beginning to drive him crazy.

"_Always_."

Suddenly, as if a magnet became charged, their lips crush together in a passionate kiss. Draco's hands tangle into her curly, long hair, her fingers entangling at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. Risking a few seconds apart to catch his breath, he pulls back. Her lips attempt to follow his, but she pulls away when he leans back. "Stand up," he rasps. She doesn't waste a second.

He gently guides her back onto the table, brushing the study guides onto the floor. He knew she wanted this just as much as he did, because she didn't seem the least bit upset that her homework was pushed onto the ground. Her knees were bent, feet resting at the end of the table. Draco climbed between her legs, reconnecting their lips as she leaned against the wall, trapped between the cold stone and the blonde boy's warm body.

Granger grips desperately at his sweater's thick collar, twisting it in order to pull him closer. Their lips move against each other, both fighting for dominance, although the way Draco has her trapped against him makes him the clear winner. He brings her bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting on it and drawing a small moan from her. And, holy shit, he wanted to spend forever making her moan like that again. He'd never heard anything so hot and beautiful at the same time.

Knowing he couldn't go further than that, his lips pull away from hers and he buries his head against her shoulder, resting his forehead on it. "I missed that," Draco says quietly as the pair catches their breath.

"I did, too." She pauses, as if in thought. "This table is now my favourite for new reasons."

"It's my favourite now, too," Draco admits.

A loud throat-clear comes from behind Draco and he jumps off the table and whips around to see Blaise standing at the end of the shelves with a few books in his hand. "That's a peculiar place to sit when you're surrounded by chairs," he says to Granger. She scrambles off, adjusting her sweater as it had gotten twisted in the heat of the moment. "Anyways . . . ready to study?"

**(a/n): what the hell just happened**


	21. 21- Just Like Her Own

Hermione sighs nervously, standing on the short ledge against the wall as she watches Ron and Harry walk through the crowded corridor. Taking a deep breath, she hops down to the stone floor and pushes past several students, quietly apologizing as she makes her way toward the familiar wizards only meters away.

"Ron!" she says over the commotion as soon as she gets to them. "Can I talk to you?"

The redheaded wizard glances between her and Harry, as if waiting for his friend to save him from Hermione. "Er, yeah, sure," he mumbles when he realizes he can't get out of it.

She leads him down the corridors until they reach the courtyard. Being the end of the day, most students are heading back to their common room, leaving the outside space nearly empty. "What's wrong?" he questions when she doesn't initiate the conversation.

"We need to talk about what happened on top of the astronomy tower."

Hermione was beginning to think that her eyes were deceiving her. Almost as if on que, Ron began to break. She could physically see his walls crashing down around him as he slid to the ground, sobbing into his hands, back against the stone wall. Hermione cautiously eyed the few witches and wizards that were outside, all of which were openly staring at the couple.

And that was when it really hit her. Even if they weren't exactly talking, they had never broken up. She had cheated on him.

"Are you alright?" she asks him placing her hand on his shoulder soothingly, even though she felt like breaking down, too.

"It's not like me to do that, or say that. I was just so . . . stressed." He pauses, letting out another short sob. "I'm not trying to make excuses, but I want you to know why I did it."

"What are you stressed about?"

"Harry and Ginny know exactly what they want to do after we graduate and leave. And you've known since _first_ year, probably. Even after the war, I have no clue what I want to spend the rest of my life doing. And the longer I wait, the further behind I'll be left. I'm just really bloody _lost_."

"You won't be left behind," Hermione promises him.

Ron only shakes his head, dismissing the subject. "I'm so sorry. For everything. Being so blunt about wanting to take our relationship to the next level, even though I hadn't put in much effort. We hadn't even been official until our talk after Hogsmeade. And calling you that . . . I hate myself for it, and I'll never stop regretting it. I have no excuse for that night."

"You were angry. We all say things that we shouldn't when we're upset. But more often than not, when you're mad, you say things that you think are true but would never normally admit."

"So you think that I look down on you because you're muggle-born?"

Hermione nods. "Yes. Maybe not enough that you realize it, but at least a little. And I can't be with someone who honestly thinks they're superior. Because whoever I end up with . . . we're equals. And we both need to feel like that."

"I can accept that," he nods. "But . . . was I right about Malfoy? Do you have like him?" When Hermione doesn't answer, he continues. "I can accept that we won't be together. At least for right now. But I think, as part of your friend group, I deserve to know. And I have a feeling that I'll be the last to."

Hermione sighs. "Yeah, I might have some small feelings for him. But that doesn't mean that he has the same feelings for me." But he seemed to.

Ron falls silent for a few moments, before nodding and standing up. "Okay. Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"You too," she says, although she's not sure what she's wishing him luck on. But she did hope that he would figure everything out.

* * *

"How many girls have you slept with?"

Draco chokes on his own breath, coughing a couple times. "What?"

Granger sighs, groaning and resting her forehead on the library table. They were back in their usual place, cramming for the finals taking place in just six days. Granger, Blaise, and himself had come to study five times a week together, on average. Quidditch had taken a month-long break in order to let the team do well on their tests. This left everyone with more than enough free time to spend in the library.

While the two weren't exactly dating, they'd kissed a couple of times since the short make-out session in the library that first day. While he desperately wanted to be more than that, he wasn't sure how to tell her without sounding like a completely mental, soft bloke. So, they were back to their friends-with-kissing-benefits deal once again.

"Honestly?" Draco asks, and a smile spreads across Granger's face, giving away the fact that she knows she's won.

"Yes, honestly."

"It's in the past!" he tries to reason with her.

"But it's important to me to _know_. I'll tell you _my_ number."

Draco rolls his eyes. "We _all_ know your number, Granger."

She pushes her bottom lip out, arms crossed over her chest. Draco tries to ignore the way the crease between her breasts is more defined now, and how innocent and beautiful her plump pink lips look. "Maybe I have a secret lover. You never know."

"And do you?" he asks, amusement laced into his voice.

She only shrugs, not wanting to admit defeat.

"Fine. Since you won't let it go, I'll tell you after you tell me."

"Juan Pablo and I were never close enough." Draco snorts at her serious tone. "So yes, my number is zero."

"Well, that's not fair," he complains. "No matter what number I say, it'll be infinite times bigger than yours."

"So it's at least one," she reasons. Draco almost laughs, although he knows he really shouldn't.

"Yes, it's more than one."

"How much more?"

"Er . . . thirteen more?"

Granger's eyes go wide as she gawks at him. "F-fourteen girls? You've slept with _fourteen_ girls?!"

"Way to be subtle," he groans, looking around the quiet library to see if anyone is around. Not that he can see far, being trapped in because of the bookshelves surrounding them on three of four sides.

"Are you bloody serious?" she asks, standing up and leaning halfway across the table as she yells at him. "You want me to be subtle? Hm, maybe if you wanted to avoid your 'sex god' reputation in the first place, you should have stopped filling _everyone_ in on the girls you shagged."

"Um . . ." he trails off.

"_What_," she hisses through her teeth.

"It's actually sixteen. I forgot about Parvati and Padma."

"You slept with the Patil twins," she repeats, like she can't believe the words coming from his mouth.

"Not at the same time!" he insists, like it made the situation much better.

Granger shakes her head to herself. Draco begins to notice tears welling up in her eyes. Out of anger or out of hurt, he couldn't tell. "I cannot _believe you_."

"Most of them were before the start of this year, though. They weren't recent. They were just mistakes."

"Would I have been just another mistake?" she asks in a voice so small that he isn't sure if he heard her say anything at all.

"Of course not. Granger . . ." he begins, standing up to be level with her.

"Shut up," she hisses. "Why can't you call me by my first name? I did more with you than I ever _really_ did with Ronald. And you can't even stop using my last name."

"Does it really bother you?"

"Of course it does! It's as if you're afraid to be on a first-name basis again because you know deep down that we'll just go back to using each other's last names."

Draco shakes his head. "You're overanalyzing everything. Just relax, okay?"

Granger stabs her finger at his chest, a table still separating them. "Don't tell me to relax. Do you honestly think that will work? I was . . . Merlin, Draco! I was ready to make a bloody commitment to you. But here you are with this huge sexual history and—" she stops mid-sentence, breaking down into tears.

"What's wrong?!" he asks, utterly confused.

She shakes her head, quickly gathering her things and slinging her book bag across her shoulder. "I'll see you after break. Goodbye."

"Granger! Come on, stop walking away." He tries to grab for her wrist, but she's too quick. He swallows down the lump in his throat, walking after her, just fast enough to keep her in sight. "You promised you wouldn't leave. You promised that I wouldn't get hurt again."

And there he had gone again, letting her get away. The worst part was that he never knew what he had done wrong.

* * *

"Tell me what's wrong with me," Hermione pleads, resting her forehead in her hands.

Ginny looks at her from the other side of Hermione's maroon bed. "You won't accept the fact that he's changed, even though you want to."

"Why won't I accept it?"

Ginny shrugs. "You're probably afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of being hurt by someone who used to be your enemy. You know his bad side, and when your doubt kicks in, you'll always wonder if taking a risk to be with the good side of him is worth it or not."

Hermione nods slowly. "And how do I get past it all and just _be with him_?"

"You need to take a few days to weigh out the pros and cons."

The curly-haired witch gasps excitedly. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"No, no, Hermi-"

"Pros and Cons list!" she exclaims, cutting Ginny off. Her best friend only groans, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever works for you. Just don't make any more rash decisions until you figure it out."

"Will you help me?" Hermione asks. The small redhead gives her a pleading look, but Hermione's hopefulness never wavers.

"Fine. But let's get this done before curfew. Tomorrow is dedicated to last-minute studying." Hermione nods, promising that she'll keep an eye on the time. "Okay. Cons?"

"It's impractical," she starts off. "It's probably frowned upon still. His parents would never approve of me. We have a complicated history, in which he basically bullied me. I know what he's capable of, and it scares me. And I need to know for sure that he's changed."

"Pros?"

"I can see myself being happy with him. Happier than I ever would have thought possible when I have to wake up next to the same person every day. I can see myself never falling out of love."

Ginny nods, her face showing no judgement. "Do you think that he's changed?"

"Somewhere within me, I know that he really has."

"Just consider it. I think love can conquer all, but, you know . . . that's just me." Ginny leaves with that, giving Hermione a short hug before she disappears out the portrait hole.

As hard as she considered it, and from every view possible, she couldn't come to a solid conclusion. Only one small push in one direction, and she would know exactly what to say to him. But she'd completely dismissed him until after their Christmas break following the finals, giving him no opportunities to aim her in the right direction.

It had been a good month since she had last done anything self-destructive. For a short while, she felt better. Nothing had caused it, it was just one of those months. But as she sat on the golden rug in her room, alone, she felt the sadness creeping back up. And who was she to deny herself the sight of her own blood?

If anything, the urge had spiked her anxiety. As she searched the two places she normally hid her blade, she found nothing but dust-covered books. Maybe Ginny had somehow found it and taken it from her, knowing its only purpose was not good. Or maybe Hermione had just carelessly put it somewhere else last month, and couldn't remember.

Scouring her room for ten minutes, she gave up and took her wand from the short stand next to her bed. Opening her bedroom door so that if it was in the common room, it would still be able to reach her, she whispers, "_Accio _razor."

Instead of coming from her room, or even some random place in the brightly colored common room she shared with the head boy, it flew from the small crack in Malfoy's door to rest on its side in her palm. She eyed it, immediately noticing that it was taller than her own, and had a small dent in the grey metal at the top. That was the moment she realized that Malfoy had scars just like the ones she had inflicted onto herself.

* * *

**(a/n): Hello I apologize for this shitty chapter, I swear I meant to make it interesting and then it ended and I was like ? hm that's strange ? and yes. However, the next chapter is **_**really**_** important and I've been planning it basically since I started this fic and I think most of you will like it. Thank you for reading! I'll hopefully have the next chapter up within the week.**


	22. 22- The Midnight Of Christmas Eve

This was possibly the most difficult test Draco had ever taken. Sure, he knew the answers, but . . . then again, did he really? He swears under his breath as he picks 'B' for an answer for the sixth time in a row. Surely he got at least one of those wrong. Is it possible to have one letter for an answer so much? Sure, the letter itself really had no impact on the answer, but there was a fourth of a chance of each letter being picked for the correct answer, and each time he chose 'B', he decreased the likelihood of it being right.

Or at least he thought that was how it worked. Math was never his strong subject.

Next to him, Blaise was speeding through the test like a madman. Draco elbowed his arm, and Blaise glances over at him with annoyance spread clearly across his face. "What question are you on?" the blonde boy whispers.

"Thirty-three." The dark boy scribbles down another letter. Draco noticed that it wasn't 'B'.

"Cool." Draco pauses. "Er, did you get the right answers?"

"I hope so."

"Can I copy them?"

Blaise pulls his eyes away from the paper once again. "You know this. Now shut up."

The head boy huffs, propping his head up with one hand. Instead of answering the questions about potions, he stared up at the curly-haired witch sitting diagonal to him. From the angle, he could see half of her face, all twisted in concentration. Occasionally, she would bring the feather of her quill up to her ear as she thought about a question on the final. He found her utterly adorable.

The bell brought him out of his trance, what seemed like only seconds later. "If you want to be able to finish tomorrow, you should be through problem twenty-five," Slughorn announced as the class packed up their things. Draco glanced at his test to see what he'd accomplished.

"Where did you get to?" Blaise asks as he folds his test back to the first page.

". . . Question eleven."

"Tough break," his best friend chuckles, patting Draco's back once before handing in his test and heading off to his next class.

It was going to be a long two days.

/

Although a part of Hermione liked tests because she felt it really summed everything up, she was grateful for the series of crucial ones to be over with. Ginny invited her back to the Burrow, promising that it wouldn't be too weird with Ron there. And she was right. For the entire week leading up to December 23, he was civilized and treated her the way he used to when they were close friends.

Fred and George hadn't been able to take days off from their shop; the holiday season was too busy for them to pass up. They did, however, apparate to the burrow after work and have dinner with the family before going back to the flat they had only a block from the store.

It was nice to see everyone back together as a family. Even if she wasn't with hers yet, she would be visiting for the latter end of their break and dragging Ginny along with her. Not that the redhead was about to pass up the opportunity to stay near a big city with tons of opportunities to shop for muggle clothes.

"So he's hanging onto the end of the broomstick, trying not to fall off, but also trying to steer the bloody thing. And he's going so fast that none of us can help him. So he crashes into the bleachers and takes down the Hufflepuff flag with him, and it's somehow in shreds by the time he hits the benches. So that's why they took down all of the flags in the quidditch pitch until they can get a new one for the house."

"Bloody mental," Hermione scoffs.

"He's Cormac, what do you expect from him?"

"Not much," Hermione admits.

Ginny nods slowly in agreement. "Yeah . . . You know, after all these years he still has a crush on you. You should really talk to him."

"Why? So we can get on a 'first-name basis'?" she asks, quoting his words from sixth year.

The redhead rolls her eyes. "Maybe he's what you need. Someone silly. Someone who doesn't take anything seriously."

"If I wanted someone like that, I might as well just date Fred."

"Keeping it in the family, I see."

Hermione chuckles. "Yeah. You'll be the first I come to if I become a lesbian."

"I'm honored," Ginny says, dramatically placing her hand over her heart. "Not that it would go over well with Ron."

"Yeah, you're right. It's probably best if I move onto another family."

"Like Draco's?" her best friend winks.

Before Hermione can say another word, there's a tapping on Ginny's window. The small girl stands up from their spot on the floor, walking over to the corner and pushing the glass up, flipping a switch so that it will stay in place.

"It's an owl . . . I'm not sure who's it is. It doesn't look familiar," Ginny admits, but still grabs an treat from her overflowing trunk and offers it to the mysterious animal. Hermione uncrosses her legs, putting her weight on her heels and pushing herself off the carpet to join Ginny.

"It kind of looks like Seamus's new owl, don't you think?"

Her best friend nods. "That's right! It's an eagle owl. Faster than any other one I've seen so far." Ginny looks back at the owl, still perched on the windowsill, eating its treat. "Seamus's has brown ears, though. This one is just grey and black."

"Who do you think it's for?" Hermione wonders out loud.

Ginny reaches forward, carefully untying the red ribbon from his short leg. As soon as the letter is detached, the owl takes off, quickly disappearing among the shining stars lighting otherwise dark sky. "Who would send us a message at eleven at night?" Ginny shakes her head to herself, undoing the knot holding the rolled parchment together.

Hermione shrugs. "Maybe it just took a while to get here."

She earns no response from her friend, only a stretched-out silence. Glancing up at Ginny's face, her eyes are wide and her lips are pressed together. From where she stands, she can't read the words on the page, but Ginny's eyes flicker back and forth multiple times as she rereads the sentence.

"What's wrong?" the curly-haired witch asks, growing more concerned by the second.

Not making eye contact, she pushes the parchment into Hermione's hands. "It's for you."

Biting her bottom lip and feeling her stomach practically doing flips, she looks down at the letter.

_December 23, 1998_

_I'll never stop calling you Granger until I can start calling you Malfoy._

Just like Ginny, Hermione reread the simple sentence multiple times. These thirteen words somehow answered several of her questions. And the most important one; that he was really serious about her. It made her regret fighting with him before finals, not only because her thoughts constantly drifted to him, but because she had screwed up so much.

"What do I do?" Hermione asks her best friend. "I can't send him a letter back. What the hell would I say?"

"You're right," Ginny agrees. "Go see him."

"When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"_Now_," Ginny practically commands.

Hermione glances around the small room. ". . . You're right. I'll pack everything up and just go home early."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "You have, like, two things that aren't already in your suitcase. I'll pack. You go say goodbye to everyone."

"Should I tell them?"

Her friend shakes her head, red hair falling from behind her ear, into her face. Quickly pushing it back, she examines the floor for Hermione's sweater that she hadn't put back yet. "You need to go soon. Telling them would be too . . . complicated."

"What about Ron? I should tell him. Otherwise, he might find out from someone else before I get a chance."

Ginny groans. "Fine. Just go!"

"I'm going, I'm going," Hermione sighs, opening Ginny's door and heading down the winding stairs. Mr and Mrs Weasley sit at the table, each with mugs of hot cocoa with mini marshmallows in them, which Mr Weasley recently discovered was a popular thing in the muggle world.

"It's good. It really is, but it's sweet."

"That's the beauty of it, Molly! It's liquefied chocolate!"

As soon as Hermione steps onto the creaky floorboards, the couple turns to her.

"Hello, dear," Molly smiles sweetly. "Up so late?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you two. I just received word that my aunt and cousin will be visiting my house until Christmas day. I haven't seen them in years, so I was hoping to spend as much time as possible with them when they get there." Hermione gulps back her guilt at lying to the sweet couple. It was for the best. "I'll apparate back to my house tonight; soon, actually, so that I don't miss their arrival."

"Of course! I hope you have a good Christmas, dear," Molly grins. "Drop by if you have a spare day."

"It was nice having you here. Have a safe trip," Arthur waves, and Hermione does the same.

Having to climb all of the steep, rickety stairs took nearly two minutes. By the time she got to Ron's room, she knocked heavily on the door and remained there until he opened it, too tired to move. "What's up?" Ron asks, seemingly wide awake.

"Can I talk to you?" Hermione asks, eyeing Harry who is sitting on one of the beds in Ron's room.

"Yeah . . ." Ron hesitates, stepping forward and shutting the door behind him. "Is something wrong?"

"I just . . . you're the only one I'm telling, besides Ginny, who already knows. I don't want you to find out from someone else."

"What's going on, 'Mione?"

She grabs her elbow, running her nails over her skin; a nervous habit she'd had since she was little. Before she could start to explain, her brain began to give her other ideas. He didn't have to find out yet. Hermione wasn't even sure what to tell him. There was no guaranteeing that anything would happen tonight; and maybe telling him would only jinx it. And she really wanted it to work out.

"Um . . . I have to go home tonight. Relatives are coming for Christmas, haven't seen them in years . . . the usual."

Ron looks utterly confused. "That's it?" Hermione nods. "You had me terrified. Have a good holiday, though. You should probably let my mum know, though."

Hermione coughs into her elbow. "Yeah, good idea. Anyway, I'll see you at school."

While part of her knew that she was trying to procrastinate, a part of her really wanted to see Draco, even though she had no clue what she would say. Even so, she rushed back down to Ginny's room, hugging her best friend who wished her luck, and grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, standing in the middle of the room, and imagined the street that she grew up on. A loud sound in her ears that reminded her of wind, and the feeling of falling let her know that she was apparating. The feeling of being crushed was over as soon as it began.

The bright witch stood in a sweater, leggings, and slip-on shoes clinging onto the handle of her large suitcase, which stuck out two feet from the actual storage part of it. Looking around her, she saw the house she had lived in for her entire life. On the other side, a few houses down, was Draco's.

She took a deep breath, debating on which way to go. In her heart, she had known before she had arrived. So Hermione set down the street, walking on the dotted white lines in the middle until she reaches the largest house on the block. Tugging her suitcase halfway up the drive, she set it on its wheels, locking them in place and continuing to climb the concrete stairs that lead to the tall archway.

At midnight on Christmas Eve, she really shouldn't ring the doorbell. Hoping that Draco will hear, she knocks on the dark wooden panel in front of her. Nothing happens for at least half of a minute, making Hermione wonder whether or not she should knock again. As she begins to raise her hand to the door, it slowly creeps open.

"Granger?" a raspy voice comes from inside, and her eyes adjust to the darker interior of the house. Draco, his blonde hair messy on top of his head, only in loose grey sweatpants that hang low on hips, stands in front of her.

Without saying a word, she steps closer, settling her feet on the metal of the underneath of the doorway. It gives her an inch or two of a boost, enough for her to tangle her fingers in his hair, and pull his face down to level with hers.

"Did you get it?" he slowly asks, referring to his letter.

She nods slowly, before pressing her lips hungrily onto his. And this one . . . she could feel the electricity flow through their bodies, sourced from the parts where their skin connected, and she could feel the passion surrounding them, and she could feel the beginning of something real as they kissed on the morning of Christmas Eve.

/

**(a/n): and here it is, the event that I'd been planning almost before I started this fic. It's actually significant and I'm so excited to write cute Dramione Christmas stuff. Leave a review and let me know what you thought! Thank you so much for reading!**


	23. 23- I'm Not A Suck-Up

**(A/N): why did it take me so long to write this I apologize.**

* * *

Hours later, Hermione woke up. The room she was in was still dark, and the curtains were closed, not letting even the moonlight in. Glancing to her left, she spots an alarm clock with red letters cutting through the darkness. It reads five in the morning.

Hermione attempted to recount the events of the night in her sleepy haze. She didn't get much of a chance, however, before she felt arms tighten around her waist. Looking the other way, to her right, she sees Draco sleeping on his side, his face inches away from hers. With that simple image, everything rushed back to her, causing a large smile to spread across her face.

Draco grumbles, his eyes slowly fluttering open. "Hey," he whispers, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Hermione giggles at the sleepy boy. "What's so funny, pretty girl?" he asks, his smile growing more obvious by the second.

"I'm just . . . really happy," she admits.

He agrees quietly, pulling her closer and rolling them slightly so that he's hovering over her, just enough for her to feel his skin against hers, but not his weight. Draco lowers his head, kissing her softly before pulling back again, and repeating the action.

"What a tease," Hermione jokes as his lips suck faint marks over her jawline, then down her neck.

"Oh, you know me," he mumbles between kisses, laughing. She can feel his breath rush over the wet marks on her soft skin, making her shiver in pleasure. "Today is Christmas Eve," he begins, looking up at her as he lays between her legs, his chin resting on her chest.

"I'm aware," she nods.

"Right. So . . . you could stay with me today, and _then_ go home."

"Hmm, and what would your parents think about me being here?"

Draco shrugs. "My father is still in Azkaban. As for my mother, she's more accepting. Especially if she can see how happy you make me."

"I'll stay here for today on one condition." She waits for Draco to motion for her to continue. "If you'll come to my house for part of Christmas day."

"Deal," he says quickly, holding out his hand for a handshake. She returns the shake, rolling her eyes at him. "So," Draco says, "do you want to sleep or do something?"

"Let's do something. I'm not tired anymore."

The pale boy sends a wink her way, and she hits his shoulder lightly. "Perv," she laughs, sliding the blankets off her body and standing up. Draco's eyes stay trained on her body, and despite the fact that she was wearing an over-sized sweater and a pair of black leggings and her hair was tangled and messy, she was beautiful. She was always beautiful.

"What are you waiting for?" she asks rhetorically, an amused look spreading across her face. "We only have nineteen hours until Christmas Day. I'm sure you haven't spent your days off _baking_, so that's what we'll do today."

Draco raises an eyebrow at her. "Dear, I know we only really got together a few hours ago, but you should know that I am the most horrible cook in the world."

Hermione offers her hand out to him, trying to get him out of his comfortable bed and into the kitchen. "Well, lucky for you, we're _baking_."

Knowing he wasn't going to win the battle, he surrendered and took her hand, setting his feet on the cold wooden floor and steadying himself next to Hermione. "It's freezing," he whines. "Aren't you cold?"

Almost in unison, the pair looks down at their own outfit, then the others. "You're wearing pajama pants. I'm wearing a bit more," she reminds him.

"Feel free to take it off," he jokes, earning yet another eye roll from the gorgeous girl in front of him. "These are _flannel_ pajama pants, mind you. I think they're warm enough."

After another minute of playful bickering, Hermione exits his room, scurrying down the stairs while Draco stays behind for a second, grabbing a warm cotton blanket from his bed and wrapping it around his shoulders. As he heads toward the kitchen, he struggles to keep up with the curly-haired witch who is suddenly really excited to make food.

"Where do you keep your ingredients?" she asks as soon as he enters the huge, brightly lit kitchen. Wordlessly, he crosses the room, cringing as his bare feet slide across cold tile, and Draco pulls open the door to the pantry. It's almost as large as the kitchen, and is filled with all kinds of ingredients. Truthfully, he hadn't been in it for a while. The house elves were usually the only ones who occupied either of the spaces. Of course, he didn't tell Hermione that.

She follows him, entering the pantry, amazement evident in her features. "How much of it can I use?" she asks, turning back to him.

"_Ce qui est à moi est à toi_," he responds.

". . . Excuse me?"

He chuckles. "What's mine is yours."

She shakes her head, muttering something about him being bilingual that he couldn't quite catch. The blonde wizard ducks into the pantry for a moment, grabbing two tea bags and boiling some water while he waits for Hermione to emerge with ingredients and put him to work.

As he finishes preparing the two mugs, she sets down the armful of various components of desserts, and they scatter across the island countertop. He eyes the pile, holding out a mug to her, and she takes it without a second's thought.

"What are we making today, Miss Granger?" he asks, taking a small sip of his tea.

"I'm glad you asked, Mister Malfoy," she plays along. "We're doing sugar cookies, vanilla cupcakes with peppermint frosting, apple pie, and eggnog cheesecake."

"All of that sounds incredibly difficult," he admits.

"You can do the sugar cookies and cupcake bases by yourself. I'll just walk you through it, okay?"

"Whatever you say," he groans, ready for complete defeat.

It turned out that the couple's rolls had been reversed. Draco was a natural at baking; he'd never really done it, yet he'd basically made the eggnog cheesecake by himself, despite that being the most complex recipe. Not only that, but when Hermione had attempted it first, it hadn't turned out right; it was too runny and the crust got soggy, and then she had burned it.

"This is easy, Hermione!" Draco insists. "Look at my cheesecake!"

"I saw it," she says through clenched teeth. The wizard continues to stare at his work with child-like wonder, not noticing the harshness in her voice.

Setting the plate of sugar cookies and cupcakes with white frosting and red flakes of peppermint on the counter, proudly displayed, he surrounds it with the other desserts they had baked that morning. Stepping back to admire it, he wraps his arm around Hermione's waist.

Her arms remained crossed at her chest, a small pout present on her lips. "What's wrong?" he finally asks.

"How are you so much better at this than me? I've been cooking these since I was a kid, and I still fail at them. But you . . . you even got the decorations on the cupcakes perfect!" she huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

Draco chuckles, turning to face her and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He leans down and kisses away the frown lines on her forehead. The feeling of his lips against her skin instantly relaxes her and she sighs, her shoulders dropping.

"Did I mention that I've had a few cooking lessons before?" he almost whispers.

Hermione's head snaps up, her eyes trained on his. "How many?"

"Er . . . only one a week . . . for three years."

Hermione shoves at his shoulder, a laugh escaping her lips. "What a prick."

"Oh come on, I'm better than you at _one_ thing. You've still got every other category in the world covered."

"For now, Malfoy. For now."

* * *

An hour after they had finished baking, thankfully after she had changed into her clean clothes, she saw Draco's mother. The couple sat in his library, cuddled together at the end of the couch, Hermione reading Draco's favorite book; she had insisted that they read each other's favorites.

His mother walked in around noon, and for a second, Hermione hadn't recognized. She looked ten years younger; her hair was dyed a solid black, cut at her shoulders. Instead of a long, dark dress, she now wore dark blue jeans and a light denim button-up shirt.

"I wasn't aware that we had company," she says, not at all in a rude way. At the sound of her voice, the young witch finally realized who she was. "It's . . . Granger, correct?"

Hermione struggles not to stumble over her words, pulling away from Draco only slightly. "Yes, Hermione Granger, ma'am."

"_Hermione_," Mrs Malfoy repeats, as if she's connecting pieces to a puzzle. There is no anger or unwelcomeness in her manner, causing Hermione to wonder if Draco's mother could possibly know her from somewhere besides the war. A comforting smile spreads across the older witch's face. "Are you staying for Christmas?"

"Christmas Eve . . . er, if that's alright, of course."

"Yes, yes. We don't do much around the holidays here, especially now that we're so far from our family, but it's nice to have a break."

Draco finally speaks up. "Mum, we made desserts this morning. They're on the kitchen counter if you want anything."

"Already showing off," she _tsk_s, grinning.

"Hermione is good competition," he shrugs, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Suck-up," she mutters, causing Mrs Malfoy to laugh.

"She has you figured out already."

Draco rolls his eyes. "You're both attacking me; this is the holiday season! Tis the time to be nice, right?" Hermione just looks at him, shaking her head.

"Alright you two, stay out of trouble. I'll see you both for dinner."

They say their goodbyes and Mrs Malfoy leaves the library, closing the door behind her. Draco immediately takes the book from Hermione's hands, setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch they sit on. "Hey! I didn't have a bookmark in!" she complains, reaching to try and grab it.

"Not so fast," he smirks, grabbing her wrist firmly, but being careful not to hurt her. "I'm not a suck-up," he continues when all he gets in response is a blank stare from her.

"Are you sure about that?" she teases.

"Positive."

"I don't think I believe you."

"And how can I prove it to you, Granger?"

"Well, maybe you can sway me in your direction."

Letting go of her arm, he slowly leans over her as she leans back against the arm of the couch, not stopping until he's hovering over her. Hermione's eyes flicker between his darkened grey eyes and his pink lips that seem to be calling her name . . .

"Are you suggesting some sort of . . . bribery, _Granger_?"

She hums in response, only wanting him to kiss her. He does nothing, though; only studying her intently as he uses his arm strength to hover over her. Slowly growing impatient, her fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer and crushing her lips to his. It's a constant battle for dominance, lasting minutes until they're breathless and constantly pulling away to take short breaths. As Draco ducks down to kiss her briefly, her teeth find his bottom lip, tugging on it when he goes to break the kiss.

A low groan comes from his throat, echoing through both of them and sending chills down Hermione's spine. "That's fucking hot, Granger," he growls, hands going to her hips and holding her down on the couch as he gets a second wind and attacks her swollen lips again.

Neither of them could get close enough to each other. Wrapping her legs around his torso, she can't help the gasp that escapes her mouth as their cores grind together. Undeniably, the friction felt amazing. And for once, the fact that the guy she was kissing had an erection turned her on, instead of making her feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Draco buries his face against her neck, his hair tickling her shoulder as his hips move in time with hers. "Shit," he breathes, teeth grazing against her shoulder. His movements come to a stop all at once, and he stays still for a few seconds before sitting back on his heels. "How was that for bribery?" he chuckles, face flushed and lips a dark pink color.

". . . I'm sold."

* * *

**(A/N): Leave a review and let me know what you thought!**


	24. 24- First Impressions

**(A/N): Dramione on social media is actually my favorite thing, I cannot get enough of it oh my gosh.**

Dinner had stretched on for two hours, more talking than eating. Narcissa asked Hermione about her family and the neighborhood. They discussed teachers and classes at Hogwarts, as well as the fact that they were the Heads this year.

After Hermione had helped Draco's mother clean up after supper and she had retired to her bedroom, Draco practically dragged Hermione back to his bed. The pair collapsed, exhaustion taking over their bodies despite the fact that they weren't ready to sleep.

Draco takes Hermione in his arms, leaning against the wall and having her small body cradled to his chest. "I didn't exactly get you a good gift," Draco sighs.

"What do you mean?" she questions, gazing up at him through her half-lidded eyes.

"I mean, I _got_ you a present, but that was before we were a real thing. I got it as a boy who had a crush on you, not as a . . ."

"Boyfriend?" she suggests, and relief seems to flood his features, as if he wasn't sure that they were going to be exclusive. After everything, how could they not be?

"Yes, I didn't get it for you as a boyfriend. But if I had, it would be a bit different."

"What did you get me?"

Draco leans over, trying not to shift Hermione too much, and grabs a messily wrapped package from his bedside table. He hands it to her, and she leans into him as she places it on her lap. The wrapping paper is emerald green, which doesn't surprise Hermione. Maroon ribbon wraps around each side of it, holding it together. "Our house color really does go together," she notes, appreciating the absence of the silver and yellow, unlike the common room they share.

Sliding the ribbon off the package, she slides her finger through the paper and tearing it away from the gift. Placing the ripped decoration to the side, her thumb glosses over the cover of an old-looking paperback book. "_Great Expectations_," she reads the title. Years ago, she'd had the book, but the copy was lost when her parents had moved for a brief couple of months.

Before she could thank him, he reached around her, flipping the cover open. The corner of the page tells her that it's a first edition, something she'd never had before. She would have never expected a first edition of something so famous.

"Draco," she breathes. "This is . . . thank you." Turning in his lap, she faces him, leaning up to kiss him. He returns the kiss, breaking apart seconds later. "Why isn't this a boyfriend gift?" Hermione questions.

He clears his throat a little, taking the book from her hands and flipping to a seemingly random page in the book. Handing it back, a sentence highlighted in yellow grabbed her attention.

"_I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be._"

She looks back up at him, almost tearing up.

"It isn't a boyfriend gift because I haven't really told you that I love you. And I don't want to say it too soon."

"Do you?" she asks quietly.

He pauses, swallowing nervously and biting his bottom lip. "Er . . . yeah."

"If there's one thing I learned in the war, it's that every day is a gift. You can't waste your life waiting to say things you already know," Hermione tells him.

"But I wish it could have waited until you could say it back."

He says it in a completely honest way, and it doesn't make Hermione feel guilty at all. She feels understood in the way that only Draco can manage.

"I like you," she says confidently.

His fingers hook underneath her chin, their eyes locked. "That's all I need."

* * *

On Christmas morning, Draco and Hermione said goodbye to Narcissa, promising they would come over soon. Crossing the street and passing a few other houses, Hermione leads him up her driveway and to the porch, him carrying both his trunk and her smaller bag while she just pulls her suitcase on wheels along behind her.

She knocks on the door, figuring that it's locked like it usually is. Her mom opens it seconds later, pulling her into a tight hug right away. "I'm so happy to see you, Hermione! How is school going? Are you getting your homework done? –Are you brushing your teeth twice a day?"

Hermione rolls her eyes as they pull away. "Yes, of course I am, Mum. Nice to see you, too." Mrs Granger finally glances behind her daughter, noticing Draco. "This is Draco Malfoy," Hermione introduces her.

"Malfoy . . ." she says to herself, like she's heard the name somewhere. After a moment, she makes a face as if the name left a bitter taste in her mouth. Even some muggles knew of his family; he wasn't sure why he had never considered that. His mum and he both knew that they were in the wrong; they _were_ on the dark side. Her accepting Hermione came a bit easier than Mrs Granger accepting him would.

"And why is he here?" she asks, not really bothering to hide the well-deserved hatred toward him.

"Mum," Hermione snaps, no doubt sending her a glare in response to her harsh tone. "We're together."

"Together?"

"Yes, together. We're dating."

Mrs Granger shakes her head to herself. "And when did that happen? I would have appreciated a warning, instead of finding _him_ at my doorstep on Christmas day."

"It happened yesterday," Hermione tells her matter-of-factly.

"And you're already bringing him home?" Mrs Granger questions, eyebrows arched as she studies Draco.

"Can we talk about this later?" Hermione practically pleads.

Sending Draco one last dirty look, she gives a hasty nod and turns on her heel, walking away. Hermione looks over her shoulder, apologizing quietly to Draco who only gives a little shrug, looking down at his feet. After they set their things upstairs in Hermione's room –which, to Draco's surprise, is incredibly messy and cluttered with books and clothes– she takes his hand in hers and gives him a short, reassuring kiss.

"They'll come around," she promises.

"They have a good reason to hate me."

"They used to," she corrects him. "You've changed for the better."

"That was the goal," he jokes lamely, earning only a shake of Hermione's head.

"I'll go talk to them. You can stay up here if you'd like—"

Draco immediately nods, plopping down on Hermione's bed and grabbing a book that lays at the end, occupying himself before she can even finish her sentence.

"Dork," she mutters, smiling when she thinks he can't see her face. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

After a good fifteen minutes, Hermione returns. Draco is a few chapters into a book he's hardly been paying attention to, and couldn't for the life of him tell someone what it's about.

"How did it go?" he asks when she shuts her door, leaning against it and sighing.

"They're upset," she says, and Draco nods, urging her to continue. "I'm not sure when they'll get over it. It's not only you, it's your family . . . what they stood for, what they tried to do."

"I understand. Should I go?"

She shakes her head quickly. "No, please don't. I want you to start to earn their trust. They did promise to give you one chance."

"It doesn't need to be for their Christmas dinner, though," he reasons. "Maybe I should come back tomorrow."

"Stay," she pleads, grabbing his arm when he stands up from her bed. "I know it's going to be difficult, but I really want you to make a good second impression."

Her sparkling brown eyes are locked on his dull grey ones, and he knows that he can't deny her. He's wrapped around her finger, but now that he has her, he's alright with it.

"Okay, I'll stay."

She grins, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his lips. "Dinner is nearly done. We should go set the table for them."

Draco laughs to himself, following Hermione back down the stairs and into the dining room. Her parents are having a hushed conversation in the kitchen, and while he can't hear what they're saying, he can tell that it's not good, and it's probably about him. Hermione shakes her head, telling him to ignore it.

Once the table is set and the food is placed around the table in the free spaces, Mrs Granger says a short prayer, and Draco follows Hermione's lead as they close their eyes and bow their heads. "Amen," the three of them mumble at the end before immediately digging into the food.

Everyone loads their plates. Draco's mum had never really made Christmas dinner. Before, it was the elves, and it was good but it wasn't special. Yesterday, they'd had a larger meal, and it had been made by his mum since they only had three elves around the house now. But it wasn't a feast; this was. He couldn't help but nearly drool as he filled his plate with ham, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, and a couple other foods that he'd never had before but smelled amazing.

He's brought out of his trance by Hermione giggling next to him. He glances over at her with a questioning look on his face. "Hungry?" she asks, her eyebrow raised. He looks across the table at Mr and Mrs Granger, who are both staring at him with amusement, much like Hermione.

"Er, sorry. Everything just smells so good." Mrs Granger quietly thanks him, looking away.

"So, Draco," Mr Granger starts. "Do you have any plans for after you finish school at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm thinking about going into divination."

Hermione's head snaps over to look at him. "What?"

"Kidding," he reassures her, and she chuckles nervously, slouching back in her chair and looking back to her plate. He turns back to her parents. "I'm not really sure yet. I was thinking about possibly training to be an Auror."

"Auror?" Mrs Granger repeats.

"Yeah, it focuses in catching dark witches and wizards. While it won't be as needed as it has been in the past years, there will always be dark magical beings. Because of my family, I think I might have good insight into where they may hide, and how they think."

"Really," Mr Granger says curiously. "That would make sense."

Draco nods. "If they really didn't have a need for me, maybe I'd apply for a defense against the dark arts teacher."

"What about quidditch?" Hermione asks.

He shrugs. "It's not always a steady job. Any year, I could be traded off the team and out of the league."

"But you do have money from your family, don't you?" she reasons.

"Some. But I don't want to just get by. I want to do something I love, all the time. I don't want to rely on my father's fortune, or my father, for that matter." Hermione smiles at him, placing her hand on his thigh in a reassuring manner.

The four of them continue to eat, chatting throughout the meal. An hour later, Draco feels more confident about having gained Hermione's parents' trust. If they weren't sure about him yet, then they were on their way to it. And Hermione really wanted them to get along, so he would do everything he could to make sure that happened.

* * *

"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Hermione asks later that night. They've been in her room for a few hours, watching muggle TV. Draco was really starting to take a liking to it.

"Go ahead," he nods.

"Thanks. I'll be quick."

"Take your time," he shrugs, kissing her after she gathers a towel and some pajamas.

He waits till he hears the water running, and opens her door, walking down the hallway until he reaches her parents' room. Knocking on the door, he waits until Mrs Granger opens it.

"I just wanted to say . . . I haven't formally introduced myself yet. I'm Draco Malfoy, and I am in love with your daughter."


	25. 25- Immobulus

It was New Years Eve. The entire seventh year had been planning a party for that night, and Ron, Ginny, and Harry were going back to school early for it. According to Draco, that was Blaise's plan, and the two of them agreed to return early so they could spend some time with their friends and announce the good news. Not that everyone would think of them dating as such.

Draco hadn't come well prepared, only wearing a thin jacket with his sweater, jeans, and black combat boots. After apparating to Hosgmeade, the closest point they were able to apparate to, the snow began seeping into Draco's shoes. He whined the entire walk back to Hogwarts, which could have been romantic with the nearly setting sun if he weren't so miserable.

Hermione was just as relieved to be back in their shared common room, slightly annoyed with Draco. He took off his damp socks, drying his feet while he waved his wand around, unpacking his clothes. Hermione preferred to do it manually; magic usually did a pretty horrid job of folding her sweaters.

Around six, there was a knock outside the common room. Hermione opened the portrait, and Ginny stepped in, throwing her arms around her friend. "Long time, no see," she comments. "How did it go? You never owled me!"

"I completely forgot," Hermione admitted. "Because you're my best friend, you'll be the first to know –besides our parents. Draco and I are officially dating."

"Exclusively?!"

"I believe so."

"Are you going to tell people?"

Hermione shrugs. "A few people. Our close friends. I'm not sure if he wants it to get out, because of his father and his family in general."

Ginny nods. "The party is starting soon, and I need to do your makeup. Tomorrow, you have to tell me everything, though."

"Deal," Hermione laughs, letting Ginny drag her into her room. After picking out a dark green dress (half for Christmas, half for Draco), her redheaded friend sits her down and makes quick work of her eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick (a bright red that Ginny hadn't warned her about), and mascara. Without giving her a heads up, Ginny sprays something like water on her face.

"What the hell was that?!"

"It keeps your makeup on," Ginny giggles. "So you can still snog Malfoy while looking like a queen."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Okay. Thanks, I guess."

"Any time."

Draco sits on one of the couches in the common room, fully dressed, his combat boots dry now. He's flicking his wand, not casting a spell, just looking utterly bored. "Are you ready?" Hermione asks him, and his attention snaps over to her instantly. He takes in her outfit, makeup, and curled hair with a small smile on his face.

"Yes, are you?" He notices Ginny, nodding her way to greet her.

"Hey," she says quietly.

"We're both ready," Hermione informs him, walking over and holding her hand out to him. He takes it, standing up, towering over her. He unintentionally leans too far forward, their mouths only inches apart, and he hesitates.

"She knows," Hermione tells him, knowing that's why he's hesitant.

"Good," he nods back, pecking her lips quickly.

When the couple turns back to Ginny, she stands there, a huge grin on her face as she stares at them.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asks slowly.

"Yep," she says. "I've just been waiting for this since the beginning of the year."

The pair raises their eyebrows at her. "I guess you called it," Draco shrugs.

"She's usually good at that," Hermione agrees.

Once Hermione picks out shoes to go with her outfit, they head off to the Gryffindor common room, where the party is being hosted. Though they arrive only a half hour late, it seems as if the party has been going on for hours. At least one hundred witches and wizards are there, a good variety from each house. Draco sights Blaise shortly after entering, and slips away from the girls while they search for Ron and Harry.

After pushing through the crowds of people for five minutes, the girls spot a red head standing out only a few feet away. "Ron!" Ginny shouts over the music, and he turns to look in their direction. He points toward the girls, and him and Harry walk over together.

"It's about time! We've been wanting to start the game for an hour now."

"What game?" the girls ask at once.

"It's called _Immobulus_," Harry tells them. "Ron learned it from Fred and George. They play it all the time with their friends at university."

"I'll explain the rules in a minute. First, I need to get everyone's attention. Give me a boost?" Ron asks Harry, nodding his head towards the table in the corner of the room. Harry intertwines his fingers, making a place for Ron to step, jumping up onto the table and holding his wand to his mouth, using a microphone charm.

"Can someone shut off the music for a minute?" Ron shouts, voice projectified over the noise of the common room. Everyone turns toward him, and it becomes silent in a few seconds. "Thanks. We've got a game to play. Most of the teachers are away, so this might be our only opportunity. It's called _Immobulus_." A wave of whispers break over the crowd. "Yeah, some of you might have heard of it. In a minute, we're going to turn off all the lights in the castle, and all you'll have is your wand for light. Eight people will be like the seekers; they'll try to find everyone. The stairs are the safe zones, and the only place they can't 'freeze' you. Everyone else's common goal is to find the sixteen glowing flags the seekers will hide beforehand. It's fairly simple. The only way to be un-immobilized, obviously, is to have someone preform the counter-curse on you. If everyone becomes frozen, the seekers win. If the hiders find all the flags, the hiders win."

Harry jumps onto the table next to Ron, taking his wand to speak. "Any volunteers for seekers?"

A few hands raise, and Harry calls on the people, motioning them to the front when he chooses eight. They're required to wear a lime green shirt, which will stick out more in the dark and everyone will know who the seekers are. After being sent off to hide their flags, Ginny and Hermione decide to try and find Draco and Blaise.

It becomes a more difficult feat than they expected. There are a lot of places to hide in the common room Hermione once thought was fairly small, although its goal _is_ to hold every Gryffindor student in the castle. Before they know it, the seekers have returned, and the lights are being shut off with a simple flick of the wand.

"Remember, no charm other than _Immobulus_!" Ron shouts as everyone takes their wands out, whispering a 'lumos' and filling the room with faded white light. Witches and wizards flood out of the portrait hole, and Hermione gives up on finding her boyfriend. She focuses on sticking with Ginny.

"Where should we go first?" the redhead asks her.

"None of the flags will be hidden in the Gryffindor common room; we were all in there. Maybe they're in other common rooms."

"We don't know any other common room passwords besides yours, and Draco wasn't a seeker so it wouldn't be in there, either."

"Maybe the great hall?"

Ginny nods, and the girls set off, walking so quickly that they're almost running. There's not much of a point; the seekers have to wait five minutes before beginning to search for people. The castle is eerie when there's no source of light besides their wands. The great hall looks like four benches, all fading into complete blackness, out of reach of their lights. The girls separate, creeping along between the tables and looking for anything that is glowing. Reaching the table where the teachers eat, Hermione crosses to the other side. Right away, a glowing Hufflepuff flag jumps out of the darkness near the Headmistress's seat. Hermione snatches it, holding it up so Ginny can see.

"Nice!" she grins as Hermione hurries toward her.

"Can we swing by my dorm room? I need different shoes for this," Hermione groans, her heels already beginning to hurt.

"As long as I can borrow a pair of converse," Ginny agrees, reaching down to take off her heels, holding them in her left hand. Hermione follows suit, shivering as her bare feet meet the cold flooring of the castle.

"Let's hurry. I want to get past the common room before the seekers start looking for us."

The girls set off down the corridor, dresses flowing behind them. The only sound is their feet padding against the bricks of the floor. Hermione stubs her toes multiple times on the steps as they rush up multiple cases, finally reaching the seventh floor and hurrying past the wall where the room of requirement is placed.

"Felix Felicis," Hermione whispers when they reach the portrait. It swings open, and Hermione nearly screams when she sees two dark figures standing in her common room.

"Granger, Weasley!" a familiar voice says happily. The other figure whips around to look at them.

"Merlin, I thought you meant the weasel," a boy groans. Hermione immediately recognizes Draco's outline, made by their wands.

"Scared the bloody hell out of me, you two," Hermione mutters, stepping into the common room with Ginny close behind her.

"Sorry. I just wanted to talk to Blaise about some things without worrying about being fucking frozen," Draco rolls his eyes. As soon as Hermione is close enough, he pulls her against him and kisses her. "You look nice even in the dark."

Hermione giggles. "So do you."

Blaise makes a gagging noise behind them, and they pull apart. "I need to get decent running shoes. I'll be right back." Hermione dismisses herself, Ginny following her into her room.

Draco smiles, watching her walk away. Blaise groans. "I'm going to have to listen to you talk about her even more than before, aren't I?" Draco nods, unphased by his exasperation.

"I told her I loved her."

"What?! Already? What did she say?"

"That she liked me," Draco replies, still smiling at the place Hermione disappeared moment ago.

Blaise raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? That's pretty obvious."

"Is it?"

"_Yes_. It is. To everyone but you, apparently."

Draco only shrugs, and they stand in silence until Hermione and Ginny come back out with sneakers on. They finally notice the glowing fabric wrapped around her waist. "Is that a flag?" Blaise asks, pointing to it.

"Yep. Hufflepuff. Found it in the great hall."

"Nice job, Sherlock," Draco compliments her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they climb through the portrait hole.

"I was thinking, now that we have you, we should go to the Slytherin common room and check to see if anything is there."

"Whatever you want," he nods, and the four of them walk towards the dungeons. After a few flights of stairs, Draco and Hermione fall behind Blaise and Ginny, trailing a few feet back. They share a few glances, laughing quietly to themselves.

Upon reaching the dungeons, Draco stops Hermione before she climbs through the portrait hole after their friends. "What's wrong?" she asks, a concerned look on her face. Draco sets their wands down on the ground next to them, still shining a small amount of light on them; enough to see each other's face.

"Nothing, I just miss being alone with you."

"It's only been an hour," Hermione chuckles.

"I know. But I really like you."

"Is _the_ Draco Malfoy a clingy boyfriend?" she teases him as he rests his palms on her hips, walking forward until her back is against the cold stone wall of the dungeons and she's trapped between it and him.

"Maybe he is. Do you have a problem with that, Princess?" he asks, so quietly that she should hardly be able to hear him, but his words seem to fill her ears in the stretching silence of the dungeons. He raises his chin and their lips meet softly, Hermione's eyes fluttering closed.

"Not yet," she admits, smiling through the kiss.

"Good. Because I can't seem to get enough of you."

He falls silent, instead occupying himself with the feel of her soft, red lips on his. He could hardly control himself, his fingertips digging into her hips, grinding against her without noticing. He pulls away, gasping for breath, attaching his lips on her neck. She rests the back of her head on the wall, panting.

Suddenly, she stills completely. "Draco?" she whispers.

"What's wrong?" he asks, standing up straight in front of her. Before she answers, he turns to see a light headed toward them; after a second, a wand and a bright green shirt come into view.

Their favorite person; McCormack.

"See you later, lovebirds," he scoffs. "_Immobulus_."

**(A/N): Leave a review and let me know what you thought of the chapter! I need to get better at updating this again.**


	26. 26- Always

Apparently, McCormack hadn't taken the news of Hermione being in a relationship too well. By the time school had started again, most of the Gryffindors knew of their relationship, which was just _great_ for Draco. Luckily, the word seemed to have stopped there. None of the Slytherins were giving him dirty looks or acting strange, which most likely would have been the case had they become aware of his girlfriend.

Draco looked up from his breakfast, across the room to the Gryffindor table where Hermione sat. They had both gone early, and only a Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws were in the great hall. Draco had no appetite, however, and couldn't focus on anything but her. That was how it was these days. He was a clingy boyfriend, and he only hoped that she wasn't becoming annoyed with him already.

_Give her space_, he scolds himself after thinking about going to join her. The only real issue with exposing their relationship to the entire school besides his popularity being at stake was the possibility that word could get to his father, even in the guarded walls of Azkaban. That could bring harm to Hermione, and he didn't want to put her at any risk just so he could kiss her in front of his friends. It would be nice, but it wouldn't be worth losing her. Ever.

He noticed that she had finished her small meal and was trying to preoccupy herself with reading, but she kept glancing up and catching his eye, blushing and returning her gaze to the book in front of her. He however, never took his eyes off her. He couldn't. Until Blaise plopped down next to him.

"That's creepy. Stop staring at her."

Draco sighs, turning to look at his friend. "Says who?"

"Literally everyone but her."

The blonde haired boy shrugs. "If she doesn't think it's creepy, then why shouldn't I do it?"

Blaise only shakes his head, asking for coffee when a house elf comes by.

"Well, what would you do if your girlfriend was in Gryffindor?"

"My boyfriend is, and it's really not that big of a deal."

Draco suddenly loses his ability to breathe normally and chokes on nothing but air, unable to stop coughing. "Boyfriend?" he manages to get out.

Blaise watches Draco with a twisted look on his face. "Yeah . . . are you okay? You're going pale. Well, more pale than you usually are."

When he finally stops coughing, he straightens back up and looks at Blaise. "You're gay? I didn't know that. You dated Kayla last summer, didn't you?"

"I'm bisexual." Blaise is greeted by a blank look. "Bisexual? I like girls as much as I like boys. Did you not even think of that possibility?"

"Honestly, no." Blaise rolls his eyes. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

"Dean Thomas."

Draco glances over at the table to see Thomas at the very end with one of his friends. "Really? The only other black guy in the school?"

"Yeah, then we can talk about all the weird shit white people do here," Blaise says, half joking.

Draco nods. "Yeah, we're all strange. Sorry about that." Taking a drink of his own coffee, he asks, "Do people know?"

"We hang out in public a lot and no one seems to care. Then again, we weren't really public enemies for seven years. And it's not as if you need to completely avoid her. That looks fishy. You're both Heads, and people think you're actually friends. As long as you don't kiss in front of everyone, they won't think much of it."

"Blaise!" Draco shouts suddenly, a wide smile spreading to his face.

The boy jumps in his seat, not expecting the loud noise, especially so early in the morning. "_What_?"

"Do you think I would be able to pass a motion to eliminate house separation in the great hall? Would anyone want that?"

"We're friends with more people than you'd think, I'm sure most people have friends in other houses. If you get Granger's support, you two could suggest it to McGonagall. She'd probably be all over it, seeing as she's trying to make everyone get over their differences and be friends."

"Let's go ask her."

"McGonagall?"

Draco groans, as if Blaise was supposed to know. "No, Hermione!"

Blaise rolls his eyes. "Of course. Sure, let's go."

The two boys stand up, Blaise holding his hot coffee with both hands, slugging along behind a peppy Draco. He practically bounces over to where Hermione sits, standing on the other side of the table. She looks up at them, surprised, and glances around to see if anyone is looking at them.

"Blaise, you look tired today," she notes. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Couldn't sleep," he explains between sips of coffee.

Draco looks over, finally noticing how exhausted his best friend looks. How had he not seen that before?

Before Hermione starts giving Blaise tips on how to get to sleep sooner, Draco speaks up. "Nice to see you too, Hermione."

"I noticed," she smirks, both of them recalling the minutes he had spent staring at her.

"Well, I was thinking about proposing an idea to McGonagall. What do you think about ending the house separation during meals? We could all sit by who we want to, at least on most occasions, regardless of their house."

She nods, considering the idea while staring off as he talks. "I think she would like the idea. School unity and everything."

"Right! And –if you want me to, that is– I could sit with you . . ."

Hermione giggles. "Since when are you insecure and hesitant?"

Draco shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck while staring at the table in front of him. Blaise rolls his eyes. "Draco is fragile. So, Hermione, I have to warn you that if you break his heart, I will have to sabotage your potions grade."

Hermione gasps dramatically. "Not my potions grade! What ever will I do, being a third of the Golden Trio in a wizarding world I helped save?"

Blaise laughs with her, shaking his head and excusing himself from their conversation to go talk to Dean.

"How was breakfast?" Draco asks, glancing towards the double doors and, seeing no one come in, sits across from her.

"Filling. What about yours?"

"_That_ was filling?" Draco asks, motioning to her previously half-filled plate.

"Yes," she sighs. "I don't have a large appetite."

"But you do have . . . _an_ appetite, don't you?"

Hermione shakes her head, looking thoroughly annoyed with him. "I'm not hungry. I ate something, and now I'm full. Get it?"

"I'm just saying, that doesn't seem like a lot-"

"I'm not trying to starve myself!" she whisper-yells, pausing and trying to recollect herself. "I appreciate the motive behind your concern, but I don't want to deal with everyone trying to get me to eat when I'm not hungry."

"I'm sorry," he says genuinely. "I just don't want you to feel like I don't care, because I really do. And I don't want to see you hate yourself."

She puts her head in her hands for a second, finally looking up to really meet his eye. "I feel anxious about everything and I don't know why, and I am really not hungry right now. I wasn't hungry before, either."

Draco once again glances around, this time looking for teachers. Only Professor Slughorn is there, and he's focused on the meal in front of him. Besides, it wasn't like he was doing anything really bad. Standing on the bench, he steps over the dishes on the table, plopping back down next to Hermione on the opposite side. She watches him do so, slightly amused.

"I'm happy you ate, even if you didn't want to. Are you anxious about anything in particular?" he asks, liking it better when he's close to her and can comfort her, his hand resting just above her knee.

"Classes starting again. Not knowing my schedule yet. Not knowing I have any classes with Ginny, Harry, and especially you. What if I have difficult professors?"

"They all love you, you don't have to worry about that. You have a pretty good chance of having class with your friends in Gryffindor. And if we don't have any classes together, we have mornings and nights, and maybe even lunch."

"But I'll miss seeing you," she pouts.

"I promise that if we have no classes together, I will be late to every one of mine in order to see you between them."

Hermione giggles, resting her forehead on his shoulder and taking his hand in hers, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. "If you insist," she teases.

Draco kisses the top of her head gently, smiling down at her small frame. He wondered how anyone could expect him to spend time with this girl and not fall in love. Because he couldn't figure a way out, and he didn't really want to.

He could see himself sitting with her, married with kids, loving her just as much as he did now – and maybe more, if he could find a way to do that. And he would tell her this; tell her how in love with her he was, and she would giggle and blush in that adorable way, and she will say to me, **"After all this time?" and I will say "Always."**

_Alan Rickman  
1946 – 2016_


	27. 27- He's Been Insane Before

It turned out that Hermione really had nothing to worry about as far as her schedule went. Once again, McGonagall was really stressing the mix of houses, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin. Nearly all of her classes were shared with Slytherins, except her Arithmancy class which only had ten students and no house limits. Draco had taken astronomy as an elective, however, so they had their last two classes apart from each other.

After receiving their schedules at breakfast when everyone was there, Hermione exchanged a glance with Draco, and they left, meeting up at the end of the hallway connected to the Great Hall. Without a word, the couple trades schedules. Hermione grins, happy that she'll be able to spend some time with him during the school day. Harry was in her first three classes, which meant Ginny would be alright with sitting by him and she could be paired up with Draco.

"See? It all worked out," he grins down at her.

She looks toward the doors of the great hall, checking to make sure no one had come out of them in the last few seconds. When she sees that the hallway is empty, she stands on her toes, hands on his shoulders, pecking his lips. Without hesitation, Draco puts his hands on her upper thighs, dangerously close to her bum, picking her up just a few inches from the ground to close the height difference. His lips attack hers, holding her close to him as they kiss.

"Oh my god," a familiar voice comes from behind Hermione. She shoves away from Draco instinctively, which doesn't work all too well considering he's holding her off the floor. In the same second, she's clutching his shirt, trying not to fall over. Draco looks over her shoulder to the boy who caught them, setting Hermione down steadily on the floor as quickly as possible.

She smooths out her plaid skirt and turns to see none other than Harry. Fantastic.

"How long have you been . . ."

"Christmas Eve."

Harry's eyes widen. "Is that why you left the Burrow?" Hermione slowly nods.

"Are you going to tell anybody?" she asks him nervously.

"Of course not. But he might need to tell the nurse, if he does anything too stupid."

"Is that a threat?" Draco asks.

"Yeah, glad you can recognize one."

Hermione turns to Draco, shaking her head. "He won't do anything, Draco."

The blonde boy, however, is almost hysterical. His eyes are trained on Harry, even as Hermione tries to push him back, away from her friend. "Are you fucking serious? He killed the dark lord! What's going to stop him from killing me?!"

"I am. If he kills my boyfriend, Ginny will kill _him_. See? It's a cycle. You'll be fine."

"Does Ginny know?!" Harry asks, glancing between them and the door to the great hall.

"She's my best friend."

"Who else knew before me?!"

"Blaise," Draco speaks up. "But he's _my_ best friend."

Harry mutters something under his breath, turning away and heading down the hall, leaving the couple alone.

"We just made him insane," Draco says, watching him.

"Yeah, well, he's been insane before. He'll get over it."

Draco chuckles and kisses Hermione once more, taking her hand in his as they head off to magical theory, their first class of the day. While Hermione was usually involved in her studies, especially during class, today was different. Most of the class was spent talking while their professors all caught up on grading finals, pausing only to hand out the syllabus for the semester.

"Hang on for a second," Draco says after the bell rings while they're in their third class of the day.

Hermione nods, and they wait for a minute while the rest of the class clears out before traveling down the hallway to an empty one out of the way of the staircases and classrooms. "Have a good day with the rest of your classes. I'll see you after fifth period," Draco says, his hands loose on her waist. She nods, and he ducks down, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I love you," he says, turning away without giving her an opportunity to respond. Which she was still happy about, considering she didn't want to tell him she loved him yet. Even if she really did.

By the time Hermione got to lunch, the only open seat by her friends was facing away from the Slytherin table. She grudgingly took her place next to Ron. Apparently her reluctant attitude hadn't gone completely unnoticed. Harry and Ginny exchanged a look between themselves, and Ginny mouthed something and tilted her head in Hermione's direction, as if trying to motion to something. Harry grimaces a bit, shaking his head. Ron, of course, was busy with his lunch and had hardly noticed Hermione sit down next to him, let alone the subtle conversation that took place across the table. That was more than alright with her.

"How is your day going?" Hermione asks the couple as if she hasn't been two of their three classes so far.

"It's nice having Ginny in some of my classes. Both of you, really," Harry quickly corrects himself. Hermione laughs and shakes her head.

"What about you?" Ginny asks her.

"I'm happy I chose alchemy for this semester. It seems like a fun class."

Another look between Harry and Ginny. "And that wouldn't have anything to do with your classmates, would it?" she teases, referring to the fact that Draco had been practicing Alchemy as a hobby for some time now, and was in Hermione's class.

She doesn't dignify her friend's question with a response, only rolling her eyes. After a few bites of her meal, she starts to feel a bit sick. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she involves Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Parvati in their conversation. Parvati's essentially meaningless gossip takes her mind off the churning, almost anxious feeling in her stomach.

Near the end of lunch, Hermione sees Ginny and Harry looking at her in her peripheral vision. Turning to meet their eyes, she realizes that they're staring behind her with worried looks. Almost immediately, Ginny notices Hermione's attention on them.

"Thought I saw something," she laughs, and it sounds forced. Ginny's elbow connects with Harry's arm, who immediately refocuses his gaze on Hermione.

"Er . . . yeah, me too. It's nothing though," he lies.

Hermione looks over her shoulder, spotting the sight they were staring at in a matter of seconds. One of the pretty girls she had run into months ago while Draco was supposedly shagging up with a different girl a night was sitting next to him. Not really next to him; more like on his lap. Her lips were centimeters away from his face, and the two of them were laughing while keeping eye contact. Hermione noticed her arm move under the table, no doubt resting on his thigh.

Deciding she didn't want to see what happened next, she stood up, attracting the eyes of her friends and a couple other students. Hermione slung her book bag over her shoulder, turning and walking out of the large double doors. And apparently this had been enough to distract Malfoy from his flirting, because they locked eyes for a split second before she rolled hers and looked away.

As if her day couldn't get any better, Ron was in her Charms class. No Ginny, no Harry, just Ron and a couple Hufflepuffs and no escape. Of course the redhead had to sit by her and constantly talk. And _of course_ he couldn't have mentioned an actually important question until the very end of class, when she couldn't do anything about it.

"I never got a patrolling schedule for the semester. Do you know who's doing it tonight?"

"Bloody hell," she swears as she stops packing up her things. "I forgot to make a schedule. Would you be able to patrol today?"

"We have quidditch practice until dinner . . . I can do it after that," he offers. "Harry and Ginny could probably help, too, if you need them to."

"Only for today," Hermione reasons. "I'll try to figure something out tomorrow. Thanks, Ron. I'll see you at dinner."

She flashes him a grateful look, heading off to the Gryffindor common room in hopes of finding a few friends willing to patrol for a night. How could she have forgotten to do something so simple? The castle couldn't go unguarded for an entire night. Any trouble would be on Hermione, since she hadn't assigned anyone to watch the castle.

Able to recruit Neville, Dean, Luna, Seamus, and a couple other Gryffindors, she had one person per floor, which wasn't great, but it would do until dinner when some of the quidditch players would take over and she would have to scramble to do her assignments and still get some sleep.

As she headed down to the great hall around seven after an especially busy four hours of patrolling the second floor, Hermione was grateful to see her friends sitting in their usual place and food set out on the table. However, they didn't look too happy to see her. Their expressions were fearful, eyes flickering between her and something else. It didn't take her long to figure out what that something was.

A blur of red hair darted over from where she was looking, and a furious Ron was heaving a mere foot away. He looked absolutely livid, his face red and a deep frown etched on his face. "What a nerve you'd had to ever talk to me after what you did," he says through his teeth.

"What are you talking about, Ronald?!" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm talking about your fucking memory." With a confused look in response, he continues. "Yeah, I bloody saw it. I decided to skip quidditch practice so that I could help my friend out, and I come across the potions room. Maybe someone had forgotten to lock it, I wonder. So I step inside, and all the memories the classes have done are in their place, out in the open. So I wonder what you did for yours."

Recalling the day they'd learned how to transfer memories to Pensieve vials, she cringes. It was when she and Dra- Malfoy had been unofficially together, and she couldn't stop thinking of him. "You kissed him when we were still together," Ron says, sounding like he was really hurting, only for a second, before he took a sharp breath and practically exploded. "You told me I was the one that fucked it up! That I didn't appreciate you enough! How much did you appreciate me when you went off snogging the ferret?! At least I never _cheated on you_!"

His words echo through the entire great hall, all eyes on them. None of the staff moves to stop them, despite their obvious knowledge of the event transpiring. She couldn't bring herself to leave, though.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," she practically whispers, finding it increasingly more difficult to meet the boy's eye.

"But it did! And you never told me, and I had to find out through a memory! If it wasn't supposed to happen, then why did it mean so much to you?! Why did you keep kissing him?! Why did you let him in so much faster and so much _more_ than you ever let me in?!"

"Please, please, can we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Why should we? It doesn't matter. You don't care. You have your happy ending, and that's all you fucking need."

"We're still friends, Ron. Don't throw this all away because you're mad. Please," she begs, her voice beginning to crack as she fights back tears.

"If you didn't want me to be mad, maybe you shouldn't have kissed Malfoy in the first place."

And if everyone didn't already know who they were fighting over, they did now.

"I wish I didn't," she whispers, almost positive that no one else could hear her despite the fact that the entire room was silent. "I wish everything was still simple and black and white, but it's not. I wish we were still perfect for each other, but we're not."

Ron just shakes his head, looking at the wall behind her for a moment before brushing past her, leaving the great hall. Hermione meets Ginny's eyes, who are casted downwards. Each of her friends are looking at their plates absentmindedly. She risks a glance at Malfoy, who is staring at her with no anger, only looking concerned. Almost instantly, she looks away, walking quickly from the great hall and heading the opposite direction as Ron. And even with everything that had just happened, all she could think was;

Where does one go when she isn't wanted anywhere?

**(A/N): Thoughts? Complaints?**


	28. 28- An Unhealthy Method

The answer was evidently . . . out. She spent hours out in the freezing January air, wandering over the grounds. While she could hardly feel her limbs, having only her school robes on, she would rather freeze to death than go back to her common room where Malfoy would be, or wander the halls with each witch or wizard who passed staring at her.

Around what she assumed was midnight due to the pitch black skies lit only by the large white moon and glowing stars, she wandered down the bridge over the black lake.

As she reached the largest point, she could clearly recall the Triwizard Tournament. As honored as she was to be important to Viktor, it stung to know Harry didn't appreciate her as much as he appreciated Ron. And she had always felt left out with them. Ginny becoming her best friend was one of the best things to happen to her, because she never felt like she was competing with Ron for the position of the Chosen One's best friend.

But now, surely none of them would want to talk to her. Ron felt betrayed, and Ginny and Harry probably felt lied to. She'd just left part of the truth out, really. She never told them the extent of everything that had happened, especially before she had officially started dating Malfoy.

And who else could she turn to? Everyone knew. Everyone was probably convinced that she was an unfaithful . . . slut. And maybe that was the case.

After a few minutes of sitting on the edge of the dock, her feet inches above the black water, she could hear something. At first, she thought it was only a trick the waves were playing on her ears. It gradually got louder, however, and she could start to make out a few voices. Looking over her shoulder the way she had come, she saw at least four dark figures starting to emerge from the thin fog settled over the lake. The first thing that jumped out at her was the platinum blonde hair, catching the moonlight the same way it had on their trip to Hogsmeade. Taking one guess, she knew she wouldn't want to be around for them to find her.

Once again sacrificing her dignity and health, she mutters a spell to keep herself as dry as possible, and throws herself forward into the mysterious waters just in time for a girl to say, "Did you see that spark?"

Once she was completely submerged, it didn't seem quite as dark. The moonlight sent waves of brightness down, and she was able to make out what was a foot above the water. Knowing the quickest way across the lake was to keep going the way she had been, she set off, really wishing that whoever had built the castle would have continued the bridge to the other side. She didn't exactly fancy swimming through dangerous waters, away from her boyfriend who was more than likely out with another girl. _Probably the one all over him at lunch_, she thinks to herself.

A few minutes later when she couldn't stand the icy water anymore, she resurfaced once more. The castle and bridge were completely out of sight and, truth be told, she wasn't positive as to where she was. However, she saw trees only a hundred feet away, knowing there had to be land close by.

Running through the water for the last couple of steps, she plopped down on the snow, catching her breath. She supposed it was good luck that she enjoyed swimming. It was also lucky that she'd learned the drying spell, because without it, she probably would be sick after that.

However, now that she thought of it, a week at Madam Pomfrey's didn't sound too horrible right now. . . .

Deciding she'd better get going, she stood up, brushing some of the snow from her robes and trailing around the lake. "Why can't I just be an adult and face my problems, instead of swimming away from them?" she wondered out loud.

"The good news is, swimming is good exercise," she hears a voice from behind her.

Not as startled as she should have been, she turned to see exactly who she had recognized the voice from; Luna. The blonde girl is staring at Hermione with an absentminded smile on her face, some strange, colorful contraption in her hand.

"What are you looking for tonight?" Hermione asks.

"I seem to have misplaced my charms textbook," she states slowly.

"And you think it would be out here?"

She shrugs. "Who knows? It's been in plenty of peculiar places. Perhaps it's out here." After a short pause, she asks, "What problem are you avoiding tonight?"

"Malfoy. Whatever girl he's going to shack up with. My friends. My ex-boyfriend," Hermione lists.

"No one ever comes here," Luna assures her. "This is a good place to avoid things."

"I just wish I didn't have to swim across a lake to get here," Hermione complains, beginning to recognize the smell of fish in her clothes.

"That's easy to fix," the blonde girl says, pointing her wand at Hermione.

"Luna, wait, what are y-"

Before Hermione can finish her sentence, Luna says a few words Hermione doesn't catch, and the smell of vanilla and lavender fill her nose. Pausing, Hermione asks, "What spell is that?"

"It's just a perfume charm. My favorite kind."

"It's good," Hermione nods in agreement. "So, do you think your book is out here?"

Luna shakes her head. "No. I think I recall leaving it in the classroom today."

"Then why did you come out here to look for it?"

"Only checking."

Hermione gives Luna a sideways glance. "Alright, well . . . do you happen to know the way back to the castle?"

"There's a trail not too far away. Of course, it's covered in snow. I can show you back, though, if you'd like."

"Yes, please."

Luna puts her strange contraption back in the back hanging from her shoulder, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets, trudging through the snow and past Hermione, beginning to lead the way.

"Er, you weren't on the bridge just a few minutes ago, were you?" Hermione asks. Maybe it hadn't even been Draco that she had spotted.

"No. I don't like the lake much. Too many Blibbering Humdingers around."

"Of course," Hermione agrees, knowing she shouldn't question Luna. As they come across the trail to Hogsmeade, she thinks about the threstles pulling the carriages at the beginning of the year. Everyone went quiet that first day. "Do you think most of us saw the threstles this year?" Hermione asks Luna.

"Yes. We've all seen it now."

Hermione shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I think it's sad. We're all still kids, really."

"We had to grow up fast."

Hermione nods again. "Yeah, we did. Do you think . . . do you think people have changed since the war?"

"It's hard not to."

"Of course. But some have an undying loyalty to the dark side. Do you think . . ."

"I don't believe Draco Malfoy is still loyal to the dark side. You would know better than anyone else."

"Right . . ."

The walk back to the castle is quiet after that. Hermione wasn't sure about Luna –though, to be fair, she was never sure what was going on in the girl's head– but she was deep in thought. As the two climb the stairs of the castle, Hermione turns to Luna.

"You don't need to talk to me in school anymore, you know. After what happened at dinner, I don't imagine having many friends. So it's alright to not want to be seen with me, either."

"You're my friend," Luna says like it's a fact. "It doesn't matter what other people call you."

"But Ron is right. I did kiss Malfoy while I was with him, and I shouldn't have."

"Love is strange, but it's worth it. If your heart told you to kiss Draco Malfoy in the first place, maybe you should listen to it more, and stop avoiding him." With one last smile, Luna continues down the corridor, leaving Hermione to walk back to her dorm. She had no clue as to where Malfoy may be right now, so she spends the entire walk to the seventh floor trying to decide if she should talk to him if he's awake.

The first lucky thing to happen to her today was that the common room was empty. A few torches were lit on the walls and the fireplace was dull, giving off just enough heat to warm Hermione up. Despite the fact that she smelled great because of the perfume charm, she could feel the dirt from the water on her skin and decided to stay up just a while longer to take a shower.

It took an hour to finally find the strength to decide to get out from the hot water, but by the time it happened, she could hear the portrait swing open and closed. Loud footsteps seemed to rush toward her, and she hears the bathroom door open. "Hermione?" she hears Malfoy ask, sounding hopeful.

Hermione sticks her head out from behind the curtain, adjusting it so that her naked body wasn't visible to him. "What?"

"Thank Merlin," he sighs, relieved, rushing to her and kissing her before she can even blink.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"You! You've been gone for eight hours. I didn't know where you were."

"That was the goal."

Malfoy groans. "Can you come out of the shower and talk to me?" When she hesitates to answer, he adds, "Or I can just come in and join you."

Rolling her eyes, she pulls the curtain back to completely conceal herself, turning the handle to stop the water. "Hand me my towel," she says, sticking her hand out to take it from him. Once she has it, she wraps the fluffy maroon fabric around her, wringing some of the water out of her hair and pulling the curtain back, stepping out of the shower. Without the few inches in height the shower gave her, she's now significantly shorter than Malfoy, and mentally complains about the advantage he has now.

"Where were you?"

"Out," she shrugs.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione looks up at him. "'What's wrong?' What do you _think_ is wrong?"

"I can take a few guesses, if you'd like."

Hermione practically growls, pushing past him and walking into her room. He's right on her heels, though.

"Talk to me. You have to talk to me, or we're never going to work and you know this."

She stares at him from the other side of the room, chest heaving as she takes shallow breaths. "Turn around."

"What? Why?"

"I have to get dressed."

Malfoy pauses. "I'll turn around if you tell me what's bothering you while you change."

"_Fine_." Waiting for him to turn and stare at the wall, she continues. "After an almost lovely morning, I get to enjoy the sight of my new boyfriend getting close to a girl he tried to shag a few months ago." Hermione searches her drawer for a set of underwear, finally finding some. "So I leave. In fifth period, I'm stuck with Ronald, who insists on talking to me the entire time, and waits until the end of class to remind me that I hadn't scheduled for anyone to patrol the halls." She puts on her bra and underwear, wrapping the towel around her once again and turning to look at the blonde boy's back.

"So I spend my four hours between my last class and dinner patrolling, and of course it's not an easy day! I have a headache, my feet are giving me hell, and I'm hungry, so I go to dinner hoping to get a break. Immediately, I'm greeted by friends who don't look happy to see me, and Ron comes rushing up, refusing to talk anywhere else, and tells the entire school that I'm a cheater, and that I kissed you."

At this point, Malfoy is taking glances from over his shoulder as Hermione practically yells at him. "And the one person who doesn't hate me has probably cheated on me himself, right?!"

He turns around at this. "Do you seriously think I would cheat on you?"

"Do you think that it's above you? That you've been faithful in all of your past relationships?"

"What I was before you is not who I am now. You know this. You wouldn't have ever talked to me if you really thought I was still the same boy."

"Who am I to form opinions on who someone is? They've all been wrong. Everything I do is wrong. Everything I say is wrong. _Everything I think is wrong_."

"What has gotten into you?! Where did this come from?" he asks, slowly inching toward her.

She doesn't say anything as she stares at him, and suddenly she's pushing him back, and his legs hit the end of her bed and she practically pounces on him, her lips on his, taking complete dominance. Draco shifts their bodies up to the middle of her bed, his hands tugging blindly at her towel, finally pulling it off and throwing it to the ground beside them. His hands travel up her sides as he moans, her lips finding the sweet spot below his ear quicker than any girl had ever done so.

His fingers start to play with the waistband of Hermione's black underwear, and she swats his hand away, not pausing her assaults on his neck. "Merlin," he whimpers – actually _whimpers_. Where the hell did that come from?

His calloused hands hold her hips tightly, not letting her move away from him. Not that she was going to try to. "Tell me you love me," she growls against his warm, pale skin.

"I love you," he says breathlessly without a moment's hesitation.

"That's what I thought," she smirks, her teeth grazing his collarbone as she leaves kisses down his chest. And Draco couldn't take his eyes off her; he knew she would be the death of him someday.

* * *

**(A/N): Leave any thoughts you have in a review! I'm ten away from 100, and that would be so amazing to reach! Thanks for all the love you show this story. It makes this **_**actually**_** enjoyable to write quickly. Also, I just reached 200 followers on this fic which is so cool! Thanks for reading!**


	29. 29- Can I Just Date You?

**(A/N): I usually don't put reviews in chapters but I wanted to talk about this one really quick;  
**_Ok, having gone back and reread this story I have to say Hermione needs new friends. Blaise has been a much better friend to Draco than Harry, Ginny, and Ron combined have been to Hermione. Of course Hermione can't talk to any of them about Draco. Truth is she really can't talk to them about anything that interest or is important to her. In regard to Draco, both Harry and Ron HATE him. Their going to do everything they can to talk badly about him. Ginny, just struck me as being too controlling. Not to mention she seems to have no problem with going along with the boys. So yes, Hermione needs new friends and badly! On top of that, outside of Draco, her "friends" are fairly oblivious to what's happening to her. I think Luna would be a good friend to Hermione. Even Blaise would be a better friend. Ron and Harry, in particular have become to poisons for Hermione's well being. _**–Chester99**

**I realized that you are completely right. I accidentally made Luna a better friend to Hermione in one chapter than Ginny, Harry, or Ron have been for the entire story. And while her friends do mean well, Luna is completely unbiased and honest, and I personally think they would be a really good pairing for friends. And despite the fact that Blaise is Draco's best friend, I could see her being pretty close with him, too. Hopefully Ron, Harry, and Ginny will redeem themselves, but I doubt their friendships will ever be perfect. Thanks for the review!**

* * *

So maybe having a snog session with Draco wasn't the best way to solve her problems. Maybe she still had doubts, and maybe she still felt horrible knowing the entire school was aware of her fling with the head boy. But Hermione could slowly feel herself losing a grip on life. She wasn't the same right now, and everyone knew it.

She still hadn't even discussed the night's events with Draco. They'd woken up early in the morning, their limbs tangled together and dark purple hickies littered down Draco's neck and chest, visible even in the darkness of a winter morning.

"Not sure how I'm supposed to hide a hickie on my jaw," he says minutes later as he stares in the mirror, his finger pressing against the sensitive skin.

"Why bother hiding it? Everyone knows. Even your 'flavor of the week.'"

Draco rolls his eyes, looking at Hermione who is still on her bed, making eye contact through the mirror. "You really think I need a flavor of the week? You _do_ remember what happened a few months ago, right? I couldn't even try to shag anyone without freaking out the moment I touched them, because they weren't you."

"Well now you have me, so you can have whoever you want," she retorts.

"Relationships don't work like that," he reminds her. "Maybe I should be suspicious of you. Are you shacking up with Weasel?" he teases.

"It's a possibility."

Draco quirks an eyebrow, huffing and turning away, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Have fun, Granger. Hope he's a good shag." Without another look, he leaves her room, all but slamming her door shut behind him.

* * *

Whatever Granger's problem was, she needed to get over it. He'd dealt with the emotionally unattached side of her for only a few hours, and he was already sick of it. While last night was incredibly hot, it wasn't what he wanted anymore. Meaning, he didn't want to be the one to get hurt every time. He'd told her he loved her every chance he got, and she hadn't returned the favor yet. And he was alright with it, last night, it was as if she was using it to feel like she had some sort of power over him. He understood that her friends were being horrible and she was having a tough time, but why did she have to take the bitterness out on him?

And the fact that she could even think of him liking any other girl was amazing, considering how much he had done to show her how he felt. How was he supposed to reassure her that he only had eyes for her when she was talking about him cheating on her as if it were a fact? He just really hoped that she would make up with her friends so she wouldn't be so bitter.

Now; the idea that Granger was sleeping with Weasel wasn't so far-fetched. The redhead was enraged when he found out she had kissed him. Who's to say that part of the hurt came from the fact that they were actually still together? She didn't even try to deny it, not that she wasn't being sarcastic. But the thought was not a great way to start his day.

When did this all get complicated? When did it become more than him being with the girl he loved? It had only been two weeks of their relationship. Was it always going to be so stressful and irritating?

He was talking about Hermione Granger here. The most brilliant, annoying witch of her age.

Draco got dressed quickly, pulling on his usual black skinny jeans and white button up, tying the emerald green tie around his neck. The collar hid most of the reminders from last night, the only marks left were faint ones along his jawline, and one of his darkest ones underneath his ear, which was partially covered by some of his messy blonde hair. It would have to do for today.

As he walked to breakfast, he could feel the entire school's eyes on him. Deciding to try to help, he walks over to the Gryffindor table as confidently as he can muster, walking straight up to Weasel. Granger's friends are all staring at him as he approaches, and Weasel's jaw clenches as he turns to face Draco.

"She didn't kiss me. I kissed her. It wasn't her fault, so don't shun her or whatever Gryffindors do. Just hate me."

"Did she ask you to come take the blame?" Ron asks sarcastically, a scowl on his face.

"No, I'm just a decent friend."

"I'd say you're more than a friend."

"So what? Why are you bitter? You're the one who fucked it up. Whether I was in the picture or not, you two still wouldn't be together. Take some of the fucking blame for once, Weasel." After he gets no response, Draco continues. "If you still want Granger in your life, stop acting like a child and get over it."

With that, he turns and heads toward the Slytherin table, scanning it for Blaise and finding him at the end closest to the wall. Draco slides in next to his friend, leaning his elbow on the table and propping his head up with his hand, looking genuinely bored while trying to pretend that his heart wasn't racing and his palms hadn't been sweating the entire time.

"So much for a secret," Blaise notes, surveying the eyes all trained in their direction.

"How long did you really expect us to keep a secret in this school?" Draco asks rhetorically.

Blaise only shrugs. "How's the Miss?"

"A bit irrational and insane," Draco says, relieved when the students finally turn away, bored with watching Draco. "You'll never guess what happened last night." Without waiting for a response, Draco moves a bit of his hair away from his ear, revealing the hickie on his sweet spot.

"Holy shit," Blaise swears, eyes widening as he observes the bruise. "Is that from Granger?"

"Of course."

"Well, I don't know, maybe you ran into the wall at a really weird angle or something," Blaise defends.

Draco rolls his eyes. "I didn't. She was yelling at me and all of a sudden, she's on the verge of tears and she just pushes me down on her bed and kisses me."

"How far did it go?"

"You really want to know?" Draco asks skeptically, recalling the multiple occasions Blaise had yelled at him for being too descriptive in his sexual experiences.

"Just don't tell me you were balls deep, and I'll be fine."

"I won't. She had just taken a shower, so she was only wearing underwear. I touched her arse . . . a lot."

"Of course. What else?"

"Uh . . . she kind of got her pent-up rage out and it got slower and then she stretched out and went to sleep."

"You didn't shag?"

"No."

"What about oral?"

"No."

"Not even hand stuff?"

"Not with her."

"What?"

Draco's face goes bright red. "I mean, it was an intense snog session. I couldn't just . . . _go to sleep_. I had an issue to deal with."

"And you did it right next to her?"

"No! I snuck into the bathroom for a while."

"What a gentleman."

"Shut up, Blaise."

His friend shrugs. "I mean, it's an improvement. Draco Malfoy _not_ having sex. I have to get used to this, hold on."

"I need your advice."

Blaise immediately perks up. "Really? Are you actually going to listen to it?"

"_Yes_. Now shut it so I can complain." Blaise nods, urging him to go on. "Right, well, it was hot and everything, but it wasn't passionate or loving. And that's what I want with her, but she's starting to act weird. Different."

"She's going through a lot."

"I know! But she won't really talk to me. I want to fix it, but I can't. And she's convinced I'm cheating on her or something, even though I've been telling her I love her."

"Telling her you love her doesn't mean she thinks you love _only_ her."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to prove that she's the only one on my mind," Draco groans.

Blaise snorts. "Would you like a list?"

"I know you were being sarcastic but that would genuinely be great."

"First, you need to stop letting other girls hang all over you. Tell them that you're in a relationship, and you don't want anything from them."

"What if they don't listen?" Draco asks. Some of his old 'girlfriends' could be rather persistent.

"Don't let them get close to you. I mean, no physical contact like their hand on your arm. That's not going to look good to Granger."

"Okay. So how am I supposed to show her how much I love her?"

"It's all in the gestures. Hold her hand, talk to her between classes and at meals when you can. Kiss her when you see her and when you leave. And don't give up when she doesn't want to tell you what's wrong. If she really doesn't want to tell you, let it go, but make sure she knows you're there for her."

Draco stares at Blaise as he talks. "Shit . . . can I just date you?"

Blaise laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sorry, mate. You're not my type."

**(A/N): Kind of a filler (and really short) but next chapter will be a lot more eventful (and hopefully have a lot of fluff). Leave a review letting me know what you think about everything. I'm really close to 100 reviews, and it would be great to hit that goal before this next chapter, which will be 30! Thanks for reading!**


	30. 30- Patience, Princess

Draco went through his plans once more with Blaise that Saturday morning. It had been a bitch to get permission to go to Hogsmeade without the rest of the school going, too. Appealing to McGonagall's secret romantic side, he finally convinced her to let them go until after sunset.

"I'd like to rethink your offer to date me," Blaise says after Draco finishes explaining the date to his friend. "Because that sounds amazing."

"I hope she feels the same way," Draco sighs, fixing his tie despite the fact that he had done so not even a minute ago. "How do I look?"

"Good. Disheveled but sexy."

"That's what I like to hear from my best friend," Draco winks. "Okay, now get out."

The blonde boy practically pushes Blaise out the portrait hole, running a hand through his fairly neat hair and fixing his emerald green sweater one last time, looking at himself in the mirror that was in their common room. He had decided on the sweater with a white button-up underneath, and a silver tie to complete his house colors. Paired with the normal black skinny jeans and shiny black combat boots, he hoped that he was looking hot, but just nerdy enough to cater to Hermione's general taste.

Holding the small bouquet of roses in his right hand, he raises his left arm, hand in a fist, and knocks softly on Hermione's bedroom door. She opens it after a few seconds, her hair in a messy bun and a baggy t-shirt on, her shoulder exposed.

"Draco?" she asks, surprised to see him so early in the morning. Alright, it was only nine am, but she rarely ever saw him before noon on weekends.

"In the hopes that you didn't have much planned for today, I want to take you on a date. Our first real date."

She blushes, a small smile on her face as he hands her the white and blood red roses. She accepts them, staring down at them for a few seconds. "Now?"

"Now. Er, if that works for you."

"Well, I need to get ready first . . ."

"Of course," Draco says quickly. "Take your time. I'll, uh . . . just wait out in the common room."

Hermione laughs quietly, nodding. "Okay." She leans up on her toes, pressing a short, gentle kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth. For some reason, this makes him blush too, despite the heated things they've done before. He stutters out a goodbye and goes to wait on the couch until she's ready.

Only ten minutes have gone by when she walks into the common room, dark blue skinny jeans with a white sweater and colorful scarf on. This time, her hair was brushed neatly into a wide braid crossing over her shoulder and going down to her chest.

"You look beautiful," he instantly says, standing up when he sees her coming.

"And you look handsome, yourself," she winks, grabbing her purse and sliding on a pair of warm, light-colored boots. "So what's on the agenda for this date?"

"To save time, I was thinking we could fly to Hogsmeade instead of walking," Draco says hopefully.

"Hogsmeade? Did you get that approved?"

Draco chuckles, having a feeling that she would ask that. "Why, of course. What kind of head boy would I be if I didn't get my dates approved by the Headmistress?"

So they set off across the castle, heading down to the quidditch pitch where, of course, the Gryffindors were currently holding practice. Weasel was glaring at him like he was about to go full speed with that rubbish broom and knock him off his feet. Hurrying to the locker room and collecting his broom, he joined Hermione outside, on the snowy ground of the pitch.

As soon as he was on, Hermione climbed onto the broom behind him and her small arms wrapped around his torso, clinging to the front of his sweater like her life depended on it. And in her eyes, it probably did.

Draco flew past Weasel like lightning; he admitted that he was showing off. Not only with the speed of his broom, but with the girl sitting behind him. And he was sure Hermione knew exactly what he was trying to do. "Very mature," she laughs as they leave the pitch, flying a hundred feet above the ground, snow packed down on the trails where students have been walking.

* * *

"Close your eyes," Draco whispers to Hermione as they reach the last stair of the tall astronomy tower. The date had gone by so quickly that neither of them really noticed the sun beginning to scrape the horizon until it got slightly colder outside. It was just before sunset, and Draco had said he had a surprise for Hermione.

He leads her out of the comfort of the stone grey walls protecting them from the wind, and onto the outer circle of the tower where he observed the sky when he had his astronomy class. With Blaise's help, he had set out enough blankets to keep them warm and comfortable on the rock of the tower floor, which was accompanied by a large pile of his pillows. "Open," he instructs her, and she does so, taking in the sight of what he's done for them along with the orange and red colors of the sky in the horizon.

"It's beautiful," she smiles. "This is perfect. Thank you, Draco."

"Anything for you, Love," he grins proudly, wrapping her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple as she watches the sunset. As soon as the stars start to come out, the wind picks up. Hermione shivers, even in her sweater. "Do you want to lay down?" Draco asks, motioning to the thick blankets laid on top of each other. She nods, holding his hand as she walks over to the makeshift bed.

The couple snuggles underneath, each noting how surprisingly comfortable Draco's setup is. They stay propped up just enough to watch the last of the sunset, cuddling. "Can you see how every sunset makes a rainbow?" Draco asks quietly. Hermione would have expected his voice to be carried away by the wind, but it's as if the rushing air quiets down for a moment to hear his smooth voice. "The sky right around the sun is red, and it gets lighter as you go up towards the top. And right there," Draco says, pointing, "is where it turns a bit green, and there's different shades of purple right in the center."

Hermione notices the pastel colors in the sky, faded where she had never noticed before.

"I've always been fascinated with it, because no one ever talks about the rainbow in the sunset. They focus on the bright, fiery colors, but I appreciate the faded ones, too. It comes together to be absolutely brilliant."

Hermione pulls herself away from the sky, and once she sets her eyes on Draco, she can't look away. She watches him stare at the rainbow sunset and the emerging stars, and can feel the rush of emotions. "You're . . . art," she tells him.

"Art?"

"Yes, art. You make me feel something when nothing else can, and I love it."

He turns his head to look at her, his lips immediately lifting into a smile as he makes eye contact with her big brown eyes. "You make me feel things I know I will never feel with anyone else."

Hermione stares into his grey eyes, the flecks of blue noticeable even under the dark night sky, lit by the large moon rising over them. She can practically taste the peppermint on his breath as she breathes in the subtle cologne that she only ever notices when she's pressed against him. And that's exactly what she wants right now.

She closes the almost microscopic space between them, her lips on his soft pink ones, moving in perfect unison. In a matter of minutes, he's hovering over her again, taking complete dominance over her and her body, controlling her mind with his seductive words.

"Remember what the weasel said about the astronomy tower?" Draco asks, his hand high on her thigh. "I believe he said that it was a good place to shag. And I have to agree with him on that matter."

"You want to shag up here?" Hermione asks, breathless and almost hopeful.

"Patience, Princess," he teases. "You tell me how far you want to go, and that's how far we go."

"What if I _wanted_ to go all the way?" Hermione asks, more to be stubborn than anything.

He chuckles. "Then I guess you're out of luck."

"Maybe not . . ." she trails off, reaching down between them and tugging at Draco's belt.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "This date is about you, Granger. Let me take care of you."

She lays back, facing the stars once again and heightening the sense of his touch. She feels Draco's fingers unbuttoning her jeans, him being completely hidden by the layers of blankets keeping her warm. The denim slides down her legs, and he pushes her sweater up beneath her chest, exposing the skin of her small stomach to him.

Draco litters kisses down her skin, tracing around the lace of her soft underwear covering her sex. His hands cover her hips, holding her down as he kisses her slit through the thin fabric of her panties, making her squirm in anticipation.

He comes back up from the blanket, lying next to her, his hand still on her thigh. "Are you alright?" he asks, trying to gauge her reactions to the contact between the couple.

"Perfect," she whispers, meeting his eye for a brief second to give him a reassuring smile.

* * *

"You have a constellation named after you, don't you?" Hermione yawns.

Draco chuckles. "Not quite. I think that _I _was named after it."

She shrugs, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as he stares at the stars that are now bright in the cold midnight air of winter. "You're worthy of your own constellation."

"I think you're regarding me more highly than you should because of previous events."

"Previous events?"

"Getting you off," he clarifies casually, referring to their sexual encounter hours ago.

Hermione lets out a shocked laugh, hitting his shoulder playfully. "Shut up! You haven't stuck anything in me yet, so you're not allowed to say things like that."

"I didn't even have to finger you, Granger," he teases. "I still got you off in your panties."

She rolls her eyes, trying to hide the smile on her face as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I take it back. You don't deserve a constellation. Only a star or two."

"Awh, baby, don't be bitter," he smirks, turning to her and wrapping his arms around her, trapping her against him as he showers kisses over her face. "I promise I'll do it again later if you ask nicely."

"I'll hold you to that," she promises. "Now show me your constellation."

Draco leaned in close to her, the two of them laying on their backs. He squints his eyes, lining his finger up with the stars of the constellation _Draco_. It's really like an oddly drawn 'z' with a little triangle on the end.

"It looks just like you," she says, nearly snorting at her own joke.

"What a dork," he grins.

"Maybe I should sign up for astronomy so we can do this every night," Hermione suggests, her head resting against Draco's shoulder, her hair pressing against his cheek.

"That's not exactly how the class goes. Besides, we both know you'd be hogging the telescope the entire time, not laying on the ground with me."

"I could be persuaded," she says, even though they both know she couldn't be.

"I'm perfectly fine teaching you about stars on my own."

"You're teaching me about a lot more than stars up here, Malfoy."

**(A/N): This took a while and it's not that good ahh I apologize. If you actually read this and like it ? thank you. I don't understand, but thank you. **

**The other day my English teacher called me a bad writer, so that was a confidence booster ^.^ Maybe I'll get better but until then, thanks for sticking around!**

**Also if there's anything you really want to see happen, you should leave a review or message me about it because writers block is back even though I have a lot of plans for this fic in the future!**


	31. 31- That's Inappropriate

**A/N: Oh jeez it's been a while hello**

Over the past month, Draco had easily convinced Headmistress McGonagall to allow school-wide seating, which meant that the couple could sit together. Blaise and Dean joined them, and eventually, so did Luna and Neville. The most different witches and wizards had come together to make a diverse, peculiar, and interesting group. The six of them had actually grown incredibly close. It was just unfortunate that Harry, Ginny, and Ron hadn't exactly come around to the idea of her befriending two Slytherins.

"I feel like we all have rolls or something," Dean said one day at breakfast.

Neville points at the bowl of bread in front of them. "Yeah, we do. They don't taste all that good, but we—"

"That's not what I meant," Dean cuts him off. "In this group of friends."

Draco agrees right away. "Yeah, I'm obviously the one with the looks."

Hermione shakes her head. "No, I think that's Blaise."

"Definitely," Dean says, winking at his boyfriend. "But he's the practical, sarcastic one, too. Draco's the sports bro."

"Sports bro?" Neville questions.

"He likes quidditch too much. He's definitely the sports bro."

"Luna is the creative, airy one," Blaise adds.

"Airy," Luna repeats to herself in her light, soft voice, earning an effortless chuckle from her friends.

"Neville is the one that hit puberty and suddenly got really hot," Draco says.

"Agreed," the other four of them say, and Neville practically freezes at the compliment.

"I'm the lovable foreign boy," Dean says.

"You're not . . . foreign, Dean," Blaise remarks.

"If I'm not the lovable foreign, then who is, Zabini? Huh? No one. The duty falls on me, and I accept."

The taller boy just shakes his head and the five of them turn to Hermione. "Please be more creative than calling me 'the brain,'" she pleads with them.

"If you're not the brain, then who is?" Draco says with a straight face, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Take one for the squad, baby."

She shakes her head. "I'm not taking one for the squad, _baby_."

He shrugs. "Alright, you're the nerd who is secretly really kinky."

Hermione gasps, hitting him in the chest. "It's not a secret anymore!" she groans. "Fine, nerd it is. _Speaking of which_, I learned a new charm the other day. Do you all have diaries you're willing to sacrifice?"

"We don't have diaries, Hermione," Dean says. "We're _men_." Blaise and Draco stop digging through their bags, slowly putting them down. Neville shoves a torn leather diary back in his book bag, pretending to reach for a piece of gum instead. Dean notices this, and rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine." He pulls out a diary of empty pages that smells like fresh parchment and has faded pages despite the lack of use. Hermione puts a charm on each of their books, then on hers and Luna's.

"What color ink do you have?" she asks them. They simultaneously list the colors, and Hermione manages to assign each of them one.

"So you just write on the page with your color ink, and it will show up on all of ours. So it's like a group conversation wherever we are."

"We should get one of our own," Draco winks suggestively at her. Blaise and Dean groan at his comment.

"We live in the same dorm, Draco."

"What about when we're _not_ in the same dorm?"

Hermione rolls her eyes, dismissing him as she hands the books back to their owners. They each write their names on the front page so they can remember whose color is whose. "Don't misuse this," she warns the boys. "Meaning, don't use it in class."

"What about Luna?" Draco asks. "She could misuse it, too. Why aren't you threatening her?"

Hermione leans into Draco. "I'm not threatening you," she says, her lips practically ghosting over his. "I'm just . . . _warning_ you." She pecks the corner of his mouth before waving to everyone, heading to her first class.

"She's scary sometimes, huh?" Dean asks, and everyone just nods.

* * *

_**Blaise: **__Who's up for the Hogwarts trip this weekend?  
__**Dean:**__ Date night?  
__**Neville**__: Triple date night?  
__**Luna: **__I don't have a date  
__**Neville: **__Well we could just go together…if you want to?  
__**Hermione: **__LuneVille!  
__**Neville: **__Please don't call us that.  
__**Draco: **__What about Nuna?  
__**Blaise: **__Guys wait, she hasn't even accepted it yet.  
__**Hermione: **__So, Luna?  
__**Luna: **__Ok.  
__**Blaise: **__SHE SAID YEESSS  
__**Neville: **__Alright, I'll see you then  
__**Draco: **__O.M.G.  
__**Dean: **__Sparks are flying  
__**Draco:**__ Hey Mione ;)  
__**Hermione: **__You're not allowed to use that nickname  
__**Draco: **__Fair enough. Hey babe ;)  
__**Blaise: **__Yes?  
__**Draco: **__Bro. I was talking to my girlfriend.  
__**Draco: **__ANYWAY, our two month anniversary is this weekend.  
__**Hermione: **__Is it?  
__**Draco: **__Yes.  
__**Draco:**__ Can you just meet me in our dorm after class?  
__**Hermione: **__I have charms class.  
__**Draco: **__With your ex.  
__**Hermione: **__Fine, see you there._

* * *

"So what class are you ditching?" Hermione asks as she enters, seeing Draco sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace.

"Doesn't matter. C'mere," he slurs, eyes heavy with sleep.

She joins him, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as she tucks her legs underneath herself. "Why are you so tired, Blondie?" she asks, brushing his hair from his face.

"I think I've been drugged."

"Oh? By who?"

He shrugs, his head resting on Hermione's shoulder. "Mother told me this would happen when I left home."

"Draco."

"Hmm?"

"I promise you have not been drugged or hexed. Did you sleep last night?"

He opens his eyes only to wink at Hermione. "Baby, you know I didn't."

"Well, I meant after you finished crying over the dog's death in my book."

"Well, Hermione, when I see you reading a book with bright colors on the front, I expect a fun family book. Not that depressing excuse."

Hermione shakes her head. "It's a book on how to deal with loss."

"That's even more depressing."

"Alright. So what did you need me for?"

"Love. Companionship. A warm body in my bed."

"Maybe you should have asked Blaise to come."

"Ha-ha. You're hilarious."

"I think so," she smiles to herself. What feels like only seconds later, Draco is emitting quiet snores that remind Hermione of a kitten. But maybe she should keep that observation to herself.

* * *

Hermione, Blaise, Dean, Draco sat in McGonagall's office. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were sitting there, too, their chairs clumped together feet away from Hermione and her boyfriend. The grey-haired witch peered over the tops of her glasses, most likely trying to decide who to lecture first.

"Headmistress, may I suggest them visiting Madam Pomfrey first?" Hermione finally speaks up, breaking the lasting silence weighing down on the room. Her words, although quiet, seemed to cut through the air.

"While that would normally be my initial reaction to injured students, I'm afraid that would not be a good idea for this situation."

"And why might that be?"

"I try not to bother Madam Pomfrey with injuries caused by idiotic behavior."

Hermione doesn't object, only crossing her arms and staring at the floor. McGonagall continues to glare at the seven students sitting in front of her desk.

"So, who would like to start?" she asks, but it doesn't sound much like a question as she zeros in on Draco and Ron.

"With all due respect, Headmistress," Draco says, "Weasel is a prick and he deserved it."

"Draco!" Hermione whisper-yells, hitting his arm.

McGonagall dismisses the comment, standing, arms crossed, and staring at Ron. "The fact _is_ that you started it, Mr Weasley. I am sure your family would not be too thrilled to hear of such a thing, so close to graduation. You could be suspended for at least a few days for starting a fight."

"I had a right to do it! That bastard stole my girlfriend."

Hermione swears that she sees McGonagall roll her eyes. "Hogwarts does not have a rule exception for hormonal outburst, I'm afraid."

"If you saw what I saw…" Ron trails off, glaring at Hermione.

"What exactly did you see, Mr Weasley?" McGonagall questions.

Ron seems to forget about everyone around them, standing and crossing over to practically hover over Hermione. Draco has a protective grip around her, sitting up straight as the ginger boy nears them. "You're not as slick as you think you are, Granger. Never thought I'd find those vials of memories, did you?" His eyes flicker up for a second, returning to hers with even more rage in them than before.

"I know what you did last year."

"What are you on about?" Draco asks, sounding more like a complaint. Hermione, however, had a dreadful idea of what he had seen.

"You kissed him," Ron breathes. The way he acts; it reminds her of when she had spoken with him, and his walls were crumbling, and he broke down and cried. Admitted things he hadn't admitted to anyone else, despite the fact that they were broken up. "You kissed him, 'Mione. We were dating, and I was in love with you, and you kissed him."

"Ron—"

"I thought you loved me! You lied to me!"

"I did love you!" Hermione insists, trying to ignore the way Draco's body stiffened.

"But you don't anymore," Ron accuses.

"No, not like I did."

"Then you never loved me. You can't just stop loving me like that."

Hermione stands up, surprising Ron. "That's bullshit. Who has convinced you that love is eternal? That love protects you forever? _It doesn't._ The most it can do is make you feel protected, whether you really are or not. And it can sure as hell go away."

"Tell that to the _Boy Who Lived_," Ron snarles.

"You think Harry has been protected this whole time because his parents love him? It was one night; one instance. The battles he has fought for the past seven years; he survived those because of _his strength_, not because of someone's love."

"Then what makes love go away, Hermione? What did I do to make you go snogging your bully?"

"Sometimes people change. And sometimes their true self just decides to come out."

* * *

When they were finally out of that crowded space, away from Hermione's old friends, she felt like she could breathe again. "Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey's now?"

Draco shakes his head. "No, I just want to spend tonight with you. I'll take a shower when we get back to our dorm so you don't get all…bloody."

Hermione laughs quietly. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Draco is quiet most of the walk back to the seventh floor where their dorm is. "I think it kind of sucks that I won't be the first boy you ever love," he admits.

"Well, we've been dating for about two months and I already love you more than I ever loved Ronald."

It takes Hermione a second to realize that Draco stopped walking. She turns to look at him, and he only stares blankly at her.

"You loved him."

Hermione nods. "Yes. Haven't we already established this?"

"Yes. And…you love me more…so, you love me."

"Of course I do, Draco. Have you taken a hit to the head too many times?" Hermione questions.

"You've never told me before."

She thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. "I suppose I haven't."

Draco grins, closing the distance between them. "You're love struck. Admit it," he jokes, kissing her quickly. "Let's get back to the dorm. I can feel my shirt starting to stick to the blood on my back."

"That's disgusting," she cringes, taking his hand as they finish the walk back.

"If it makes you feel better," Hermione adds, "you'll be the first person to shag me."

"Granger! That's inappropriate… and I can't wait."

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for forever oops.. In an effort to be less hypocritical (? not really the right word but whatever) I've been doing more reviews for other stories which is cool because I feel good about it. It really helps writers to take a few moments out of your day to let them know that you enjoy their writing/story! So even if you don't do it for mine (because i suck lol) you should definitely try to do it more often because it's easy and very much appreciated! Random side note, kind of feel like starting to put a lil bit of smut in here? Anyway, have a great week!**


	32. 32- Wizarding World's Bigfoot

A bright light from Draco's window wakes Hermione. She notices that the curtains are drawn away, letting in the rays of the sunrise, landing on her body.

"Morning, Draco," she smiles, stretching her arms above her head and bumping the emerald wall with her palms. As she turns to look at the boy, she realizes he's not in bed. His side feels colder than usual. Hermione glances around the room, now noticing the closed door with yellow light peeking through underneath. She sits up, tip-toeing over and carefully turning the knob, not making a sound.

As it opens, she sees Draco sitting by the fireplace. Close, kneeling in front of it as if he were desperately trying to get warm. As she leans forward more, she hears a voice deeper than his.

"It doesn't matter why I'm not on that island. What matters is that I'm not. You should be happy that I'm here to take care of your mother."

"Take care of her?" Draco responds in shock. "You don't do anything! The house elves work, and you sit around yelling at my mother."

"Sometimes she needs to be yelled at," the voice says. "She's my wife. I think I can decide how to take care of her. And anyhow, did I get to Azkaban because I was 'sitting around?' Did I get _out_ of Azkaban by sitting around? No, I worked for what I wanted and I got it. You could learn something from me, whether you like to think about it or not."

Hermione steps closer despite her best judgement. She wanted to confirm….

Taking a step past the door, she's able to see the fire over Draco's shoulder. A face of ash is present, and she can make out long hair framing the face. "Oh, shit," she whispers, unable to help herself as she sees Lucius. Her attention focused on that, she forgets to watch her surroundings and her arm hits the door. It creaks as it moves away from her, and Draco's head whips back to meet her wide eyes.

"Granger?" he asks, his face hard. There's a noise, and the fireplace is filled with flames, leaving shapeless ash on the bottom. Draco jumps away from the sudden heat, hitting the side of the couch as he sits on the floor. He looks between the roaring fire and Hermione's guilty face, growing increasingly angry.

"Draco, I… I didn't…"

He shoots off the floor, coming closer to her. "What, Granger? You didn't what?"

She hesitates. "Is he at the manor?"

"What the fuck, Granger?" he says like he doesn't want an answer. "You eavesdrop on my private conversation and then ask questions?"

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop!" she lies. "I just woke up and you weren't in bed. It's not my fault."

Draco takes a breath, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead for a second. "You're right. Sorry, Hermione. I'm just frustrated. I don't know what's going on. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about it for a while."

Hermione nods. Of course she wanted to know why his criminal father wasn't serving his life sentences in Azkaban, but Draco had just cracked, and she didn't want to see him completely break on her.

"Maybe you should stay here today," Hermione reasons.

"Maybe you're right." Draco scratches his neck, a nervous habit he has. "I'll just… stay."

Hermione says her goodbyes, and Draco is left alone with his thoughts. Exhaustion swept over him as he laid down on the couch, his loose white t-shirt and grey sweatpants draped over his body. It still wasn't enough to keep him warm, and as much as he wanted to just go to sleep, he knew he couldn't.

So he waited by the fireplace for hours, until he was sure everyone would be in class. He pulled on a Slytherin sweatshirt and shoes and tried to fix his mess of hair, but shortly gave up.

The journey to McGonagall's office was full of anxiety. He was scared that a student would walk out and see him in his current state. Maybe a teacher would be patrolling the corridor he was in, and would demand his story. And maybe McGonagall wouldn't grant his request. Draco just didn't want to be there.

The office door is cracked open when he arrives. "Headmistress?" he calls out as he walks in, glancing at the clutter placed against every wall. A sweeping dress comes from around the corner on the story above where he stands, at the foot of the stairs.

"Mister Malfoy," McGonagall greets. "Why are you not in class?"

He shrugs. "That's what I've come to talk to you about."

She descends the stairs, and Draco begins to find her less intimidating with every step. He almost laughs as she reaches level flooring, being nearly a foot shorter than him. "What can I help you with?"

Draco hesitates. "I'm not quite sure how to say it, but… I need to visit my mother."

McGonagall looks surprised. It's a look he rarely sees, as she seems to be prepared for everything.

"You want to leave Hogwarts?" she asks slowly.

"For a few days. I just… don't know if she's doing okay. You know, with my father and everything."

Draco had convinced himself that he wasn't lying. It wasn't his fault if McGonagall just assumed his father was still in Azkaban.

"I hadn't considered her emotional turmoil," McGonagall admits. "I suppose if you were to make arrangements with your professors and Miss Granger, I may be able to permit it." Draco grins. "You'll need to be back by Monday morning to attend classes," she says, but she has a slight grin tugging at her lips.

"Thank you, Headmistress. I promise my academics won't be affected."

She nods, pausing as if she's trying to find the right words. "What you're doing is… very respectable. Being there for your mother."

Draco forces a smile again, pushing back whatever guilt he feels for lying. A part of him did want to go home to protect his mother, so maybe McGonagall was still right. Maybe he still was respectable.

He leaves her office, hoping again that no one will be in the halls. He'd have to change to go talk to his professors, but after that, he could take a few essential things and leave for the weekend. No one else has to know.

* * *

Hermione arrives at lunch where she finds Neville, Luna, and Blaise sitting together in their usual seats. She joins them, plopping down next to Blaise. "Hey, where's Dean?" she asks him.

He tilts his head forward and to the right, and Hermione follows the gesture to where Dean sits with multiple Gryffindor boys. She shoots Blaise a questioning look, who reluctantly explains. "He's upset. Apparently I'm not good enough for him."

"What? Did you break up?"

Blaise laughs humorlessly. "No, he wants to keep me secured. We're taking some time apart today, but we still get to go on that triple date in Hogsmeade tomorrow!" he says, faking enthusiasm. Hermione chuckles slightly.

"Oh, how fun."

Blaise shrugs. "Where's Draco at?"

"Oh, he stayed in the dorm today. Not feeling well. I guess he's not hungry, either." Hermione turns her attention to the two across from them. "So, are you excited for your date?" she asks Neville and Luna. Neville blushes, but Luna seems unaffected.

"I suppose so. I plan to stop at the book store to pick up information for new articles in _The Quibbler_."

"Have you got any ideas yet?"

Luna nods. "Yes, there's been a recent sighting of the Wampus cat. Half woman, half cat. Very frightening and dangerous."

"Really…" Hermione trails off. The Wampus cat feels more like the wizarding world's bigfoot than it does a real threat.

"Well, I hope that works out for you," Blaise says. Luna thanks him, and the food appears on the tables. Hermione grabs a sandwich and begins eating.

As Neville and Luna become preoccupied with their own conversation, Hermione turns back to Blaise. "What happened between you and Dean, if you don't mind me asking?"

He shakes his head. "I forgot one of our month anniversaries. Honestly, some boys are worse than dating girls."

"Well, you can't have it all."

"That's true, but if I'm going to be dating someone like Dean, why not just get a girlfriend? I'd rather have a cunt."

Hermione's eyes widen, not expecting the casual statement. "Oh, well, um… then I suppose that's an option for you." She hesitates. "Do you want to break up?"

"Somewhat." Hermione stares at him. "Okay, yes. I mostly want to break up, but he's a good guy. I just want to be friends again."

"Maybe you should just end it. You can't stick with him just because you're scared that you won't be friends anymore."

"I know. I'll think about it more later." Hermione raises her eyebrow, doubtful. "I promise I will." She still doesn't let up. "How about I come over tonight and you and Draco can help me with a pros and cons list?"

"Perfect," she grins, satisfied.

Hermione returns to eating her sandwich as Blaise picks at the food on his plate, hardly eating in the remaining fifteen minutes of the lunch period. The four of them stand, heading toward the large doors leading to the corridor. "I'll see you tonight, Granger," Blaise winks, leaving Hermione to get to her next class.

* * *

After throwing a few outfits in a bag and quickly gathering the work from the day, Draco sets off to the quidditch court. He figured it might be a good idea to fly a ways before apparating, instead of just trying to find the boarder of Hogwarts's anti-apparition spell. Besides, flying always helped Draco forget his problems, and Merlin, he had some now.

All too soon, he's past Hogsmeade, past the outskirts of the towns, and in the middle of nowhere. Even if he wanted to fly the whole way home, he'd have no clue about which direction to go. Landing on a clear patch of grass, he closes his eyes and pictures the library of the manor. His happy place.

The normal twisting, pulling, squeezing, and overall bodily torment of apparating overcomes Draco, but it ends as soon as it begins. He opens his eyes once more, now surrounded by walls covered by book spines and air that smells like old parchment. No one seems to be in the room, and Draco takes a breath, enjoying his moment of silence for the weekend.

As soon as he leaves the comfort of the study, Draco spots the long blonde hair of his father. Hearing the door creak, Lucius turns, spotting his son.

"Draco!" he says, shocked. "What are you doing away from school?"

"It's nice to see you, too, Father," Draco deadpans. Lucius doesn't acknowledge Draco's sarcasm, and continues to wait for an answer. "I came home for the weekend. I got permission from McGonagall."

"You told-"

"I told no one," Draco snaps. "I didn't tell anyone that you escaped Azkaban. I told them that I needed to comfort my mother. Still true, by the way."

Lucius laughs. "Your mother has never been better. But who said that I escaped?"

"How else would you get out?"

Lucius shrugs.

Before Draco can question him further, his mother comes from around the corner looking for Lucius. She stops in her tracks when she sees him, even more surprised than Lucius. Unlike him, though, she runs to Draco and throws her arms around him. "Draco, you're home! I've missed you!"

He wraps his arm around his mother, leaning down to place his chin on her shoulder. Her black hair brushes against his cheek as he inhales the familiar scent, and part of him can't deny how much he's missed her. As he reunites with his mother, Lucius leaves the room, probably feeling uncomfortable with being around any close family relationships.

"McGonagall let me go home for the weekend. I'm here under the pretense that you needed some company. She doesn't know about Lucius."

"Draco," she sighs, shaking her head as they pull away from each other. "You should really treat your father with respect."

He lowers his voice, hoping no one else can hear their conversation. "How did he get here, Mother?"

"He only said that his sentences were overturned. It may have something to do with the jury or the judge or maybe even your father himself. I haven't been told, but I don't think he could have escaped."

"He had hundreds of life sentences! How could they all be overturned?"

She shrugs, and the conversation is cut short by Lucius reentering the front room. Despite the question of his return being the elephant in the room, it seems to be unlikely that Lucius will share any time soon. Draco settles in for the weekend, hoping he'll get a few answers to make the break worthwhile.

* * *

The clock over the fireplace reads seven o'clock. Dinner was over at six-thirty. Draco should be here.

A knock on the portrait outside the dorm makes Hermione shoot to her feet, anticipating the pale blonde boy on the other side. Instead, she sees a dark haired, dark skinned Blaise climbing through the hole.

"Hey, I didn't see you or Draco at dinner today. Is everything alright?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I haven't seen him since this morning. He hasn't been here all night, and I'm scared that he's in trouble."

"Have you asked the headmistress if she knows of his whereabouts?" Blaise suggests.

"No. I considered it, but if she has no idea of where he is, I may just end up getting him in trouble. He could be off at the pitch for all I know."

"It's pouring out. I highly doubt he's flying around in this kind of weather," the boy reasons.

"I know, but I'm hoping for it. And if he's not here… if he somehow left the school without anyone noticing, I could get his Head Boy title revoked. I just think it's better than I don't ask McGonagall any questions."

"I understand."

Hermione finally smiles at him, just enough to let him know that she appreciates his being there. "Maybe making a good pro and con list will help get my mind off Draco for a bit."

Blaise nods, walking to the couch and sitting down. Hermione sits next to him as he pulls out parchment, ink, and a quill. He uses the coffee table's surface to scrawl down a t-shaped chart, writing 'pros' on the line on the left side, and 'cons' on the right side.

"Let's begin with the obvious," he says. "Dean is a bit more than I want to handle."

"You said yourself that you just want to be friends," Hermione adds.

"He's kind and funny and cute, though."

The pair lists about a dozen things before they begin to run out of ideas as well as space on the parchment.

"You'd rather date a girl if you were going to date someone who's high maintenance," Hermione reminds him.

"Yeah, and I feel bad for having feelings for other people. I think if he were the one, I wouldn't have to constantly fight developing crushes. I'd just have eyes for him."

"You have a crush?" Hermione pries, elbowing him playfully. "Who is it?!"

He shakes his head. "Not important. It won't happen."

"Well, if you break up with Dean, it could happen."

"No, I don't think it could."

"Maybe you know the situation better than I do, but you're a catch, Zabini! Anyone, witch, wizard, or muggle, would be lucky to have you."

Blaise chuckles. "Thanks, Granger. Maybe you could tell that to her."

"I will if you give me a name."

"I appreciate the thought, but it's probably not a good idea to talk about any feelings for her anymore."

Hermione nods. "If you ever want to talk, though, I won't tell anyone. Not even Draco."

Blaise looks away as she says the name. "Yeah, I appreciate it," he repeats.

Hermione puts her hand on Blaise's shoulder. He eyes it briefly before turning to look at her again. "Is anything wrong?" she asks.

"No… maybe I'm just annoyed at Draco's irresponsibility today. He didn't come to classes or meals, and now he's not in the dorm and he didn't leave anyone a note. He just makes his friends worry all the time."

"I get it," Hermione says. "Believe me, I do. When I see him again, I'll be prepared to throw a book at his face."

"Throw another one for me," Blaise winks.

"You've got it," she laughs. "I'm sorry for being a bad host, but I feel exhausted. Would you be okay if I cut this short?"

"Of course not, Hermione. Whether Draco is here tomorrow or not, will you come with me to Hogsmeade?" He pauses. "I'm not sure if I can go through with this date with Dean, and I need some support if I'm going to break up with him."

"Of course I'll be there. I'm meeting Neville and Luna by the portrait of the fat lady. You and Dean are welcome to join us there, and we can all walk together."

Blaise nods, standing up and offering his hand to Hermione, who takes it, rising next to him. "I'll see you there." He pauses, edging closer to Hermione before wrapping her in a hug. She pauses, surprised at the affection, but hugs him back.

"You'll be alright? Being alone tonight?" he asks.

Hermione smiles. "Of course. I've spent nights apart from Draco. Thank you, though."

Blaise nods again, still holding her after their hug, his arms on her waist. Suddenly, he leans in, his full lips pressing against her own as he places a gentle kiss to them. Before Hermione can react, he's pulling back. She finds herself following his movement, trying to close the kiss once more, but she stops herself when she realizes what she's doing.

Blaise pauses one final time, one hand on her hip. "Goodnight, Hermione," he finally says, turning toward the portrait hole and hurrying gracefully out of it and into the darkened corridor, leaving Hermione to touch her fingertips to her lips and wonder what just came over the both of them.

* * *

**I finally finished another chapter! To be completely honest, I suddenly fell hard for Blaise, hence this story being updated as well as the ending of the chapter. Leave a review and let me know what you thought about that kiss or about any of the events thus far. I appreciate all the reviews, follows, and favorites I get so much! It makes writing this worth it. I've got a few more scenes written out already, so I'm hoping to write more in the next few days. Thanks for reading!**


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